


From One Cage To Another

by Bubonic_Johnson



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Anger, Bitterness, Explicit Language, F/F, Hatred, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internal Conflict, Orphans, Resentment, Revenge, Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2020-11-02 01:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 97,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubonic_Johnson/pseuds/Bubonic_Johnson
Summary: Orphaned Jak grew up in the ruthless wasteland of the Commonwealth, isolated and ignorant to a deeper plot she was never meant to escape. New friends, new love, and new enemies quickly challenge her reckless lust for vengeance...but will it be enough to pull her out of the hole she's been digging her entire life?





	1. Chapter 1

Jak squeezed the trigger.

The rifle rocked back into her shoulder as the air around her cracked. The raider she had her eye on crumpled heavily to the ground. Shortly after, she heard shouts and swearing from inside the encampment. She steadily aimed her rifle at the gated doorway in the makeshift fence built from old wood and scrap metal. As more of the raiders rushed out to find their assailant, she picked them off, one by one. She was expertly crouched on a rusty fire escape three stories above the group, and only some of them had found her. They had just long enough to fire a few hasty shots and a string of insults at her before she took them out, too. Within minutes the cracked pavement outside of the junk fence was soaked in blood.

Satisfied with her work, she came down from her hiding place, eager to see if her kills had anything useful. Sure enough, she found a small handful of stimpaks, a decent sum of caps, and some ammunition for her pistol. Putting all of this away in the pack she carried, she continued to slink through the decimated remnants of the city.

It felt like she was walking through a snapshot of destruction. It always did. There was no movement except for hers, no sound except for the rubble crunching beneath her feet and the stray breeze blowing through the hollow skeleton that once held loud, bustling life. But at any moment the snapshot could come alive with a shriek, or a gunshot, or the twisted growl of some mutant in the distance, the snarl of a mangy beast, the drone of some freakish insect. This place was death, but sometimes Jak saw a disturbing beauty in it. And if beauty wasn't found in a place like this, one would lose grip on their humanity.

Still, there wasn't a whole lot of room for humanity. Jak always felt there came a line between humanity and survival, and sometimes, that line had to be crossed. Other times she questioned if there was even a line at all. Rarely was the Wasteland kind to Jak, or much of anyone for that matter, and as a result, she’d been forced to cross that line countless times.

Night fell, and Jak had returned to the abandoned building she called her home. It wasn't much, even for the Wasteland's standards; just a filthy mattress and a small trunk containing her few weapons and belongings in the corner of an otherwise empty room on the top floor of whatever the hell the dilapidated structure used to be. She had access to two small balconies overlooking different sides of the building, and there was a concrete staircase that lead to the roof. Some nights Jak would move her mattress up those stairs and sleep under the cold stars that glistened in the black, irradiated sky.

Tonight was one of those nights.

She never worried about anyone robbing her or making an attempt on her life while she slept. Combined with how close she was to Diamond City and the guards’ patrol route plus the fact that her building was one of the most random and desolate in the area, as well as the various traps she had constructed, she had developed a surprising sense of security. Something one could deem foolish, but she grew tired of constantly fearing for her life. As much as she despised raiders, she couldn’t deny that she envied how confident they usually were in their own survival.

She took off the makeshift armor she was wearing and set it next to her mattress. She never took off any more than that. She didn’t feel that secure. Lying under the sheet of glistening stars, she stared at the moon, wondering how something so tantalizingly beautiful could become so suddenly obsolete. The moon had always been somewhat of a comfort for her as a child growing up in the Wasteland. She just never broke the habit. Curled up under her ragged blanket, she fell asleep.

The sun glared harshly into Jak’s face. Sitting up, she squinted at her surroundings. She stretched with a yawn, put her armor back on, and dragged the mattress back downstairs. Dust swirled up from the floor as she moved it back to the corner of the room. She checked the trunk of belongings, taking note of what she would need to scavenge for the day. Mostly water and food. She never had enough of those. She slung her backpack around her shoulders, deciding she would go back to the raider camp she cleared out yesterday and see if there was anything she might’ve missed. After that, well, she’d scrounge up something.

The bodies of the slain raiders still lie scattered about the entrance of the camp. They looked like they’d been untouched since her looting. Jak prowled past the gate, making sure there were no stragglers waiting to get the jump on her. After being certain she was alone, she searched throughout the encampment, checking every crate and barrel. She even rifled through the sleeping bags she found, but there was nothing. Feeling defeated, she decided to at least take one of the sleeping bags. It would offer more comfort than the rough blanket she used. She took one last glance around the empty place, when she noticed a ladder on the far side of the camp, against the brick building that helped form the wall, leading up to a dilapidated room. The wall had completely crumbled on this side. Dropping the sleeping bag, Jak dashed for the ladder, eagerly climbing it to see what await her in the room. Upon reaching the top, she froze.

There was someone sleeping in the middle of the room with a sawed-off shotgun close by. In the far corner, there was a bulky wooden chest. Quickly making up her mind, Jak crept towards the chest. The sleeping raider was obviously vulnerable, but killing people in their sleep struck a painful chord with Jak.

She wasn’t going to cross the line this time.

Quietly, she lifted the lid of the chest and sucked in her breath. There were several cans of food and bottles of water. She was wondering where the hell the gang found this stuff when the pump of a shotgun sounded behind her.

“Put your fuckin’ hands up and turn around,” growled the raider.

Jak decided it would be better to listen to him, at least for now, so she did what he said.

“Thought you could steal our shit, huh? Or should I say ‘my shit’, since you fuckin’ killed everyone else, huh?”

Jak glared at him but said nothing. How had he heard her?

“Can’t you hear me, bitch? Should I speak up for ya?” he shouted the last words.

“I just needed some food and water,” she muttered. She tried to play nice and it landed her here.

“Yeah, is that right? I just need some damn booze and a pretty girl to keep me company but we can’t all have what we fuckin’ want, now can we?” Then he paused. His grimy face broke with an ugly, yellow-toothed smile. “Unless….”

Jak could tell where this was heading. It wouldn’t be the first time. Letting things play out for just a bit longer, she kept silent as the raider slowly approached her, still wearing that yellow smile.

“That armor, take it off for me, baby.”

Jak pretended to hesitate, prompting him to threaten her once more with the shotgun.

“I said take it off!”

Slowly she took off all the armor, gently setting it next to her. She laid her backpack down next to it.

“Now your clothes,” he said, still leering.

She unzipped the sleeveless leather jacket she wore and tossed it to the floor. Next she pulled off her tattered shirt. She continued to strip until she stood in her underwear, shivering. Not from fear or cold, but from sheer and ruthless excitement. The raider came closer, resembling a dog eyeing a scrap of meat. She could practically imagine the bastard panting with his tongue out. Now she just needed him to get closer. He dropped the shotgun, putting his dirty hands on her, pressing against her. Then Jak brought her knee up, sharply striking him between his legs. He fell to the ground, howling in pain. She snatched her pistol from her backpack lying beside her and pointed it at him.

“You fuckin’ bitch! I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

He hurled himself at Jak but she shot him, once, twice, three times. His body lay bleeding at her feet. A careless waste of ammo, perhaps.

She spit on his corpse, put all of her clothes and armor back on, took the shotgun, and put all the supplies from the chest into her backpack. It was heavy, but she was used to it. On her way out of the camp, she grabbed one of the sleeping bags. Today was a good haul, and she was going to sleep very well tonight. She smiled at the thought of that, not at all phased by the events that just went down.

Jak returned to leave her new findings at her makeshift home, then decided to take advantage of the remaining daylight and see if there was anything else she could scavenge. Apparently though, there was nothing much. She searched until it looked like dusk, keeping to her usual vicinity of the Boston ruins, but the most that happened was a guard from Diamond City telling her she looked familiar as she walked past the gate. Feeling disappointed, she started back for her place. She was less than a mile away when she heard voices to her right. She glanced to her side and sure enough, there were three people walking her direction. She hurriedly crept to the building closest to her, finding cover from which she could eavesdrop. Straining her ears, she was able to make out what they were saying.

“You sure she’s around here?” came a gruff and impatient man’s voice.

“She couldn’t have gone far, nobody comes from across the river just to pick off some scavvers,” replied another man loudly. His voice wasn’t as deep, and he sounded very annoyed

“Some of those scavvers were my friends, asshole,” hissed the third voice, a woman’s. “Let’s just find this bitch.”

In this moment Jak regretted not bringing her rifle. She could have easily scaled another fire escape and repeated yesterday’s ordeal. She wasn’t entirely sure she could take on all of them at once with her current weapons. She hadn’t planned on needing anything else. Feeling rather stupid, she decided to just wait for them to pass. The idea of being wanted by some vengeful raiders wasn’t her idea of fun, but she didn’t feel prepared enough to deal with them yet. She’d wait until they were gone and then find them in the morning, or at least make sure to better equip herself.

The raider trio’s voices were fading off into the distance. Jak took one last glance in their direction before slowly making her way to her safehouse, making sure to keep to the shadows the tall buildings cast on the ravaged streets.

Once safely in her home, she picked her way through her own traps and up the several flights of stairs before finally arriving at her room. She tossed her empty pack across the floor, spread her new sleeping bag on her mattress, and flung herself into her bed. With a sigh she thought of how fruitful today had been, but also how tense. There was a tight knot in her stomach that she hadn’t noticed until now. She took a deep breath, and then started laughing, almost hysterically. It was short lived and she forgot she was even capable of laughing still, and wasn’t even sure why she was laughing. But she didn’t care. She felt a hell of a lot better than she did and that knot in her stomach was gone. All she was now was really, really hungry.

She grabbed a can of pork ‘n’ beans and cut it open with her pocket knife. She ate the food with a fork she kept around. Despite living in the end of modern civilization, Jak hated eating with her hands. It felt…degrading, somehow. It was the small things that kept her holding on, apparently.

After washing down her barely-satisfactory meal with half of one of the stolen water bottles, she removed her armor and huddled up inside her sleeping bag. It reeked of sweat and filth but she was too tired to care. She slept restlessly inside her warm, downy cocoon, dreaming of rabid dogs yelling at her to take her clothes off. It was as comical as it was unsettling.

Jak woke up covered in sweat, partly due to her dreams, but mostly because the sleeping bag was much too warm. Crawling out of it as if emerging from some strange egg, she made a mental note to leave it unzipped next time she used it. She opened a can of pineapples. Canned food amazed Jak, if she were being honest. She was eating food from before the war, made a couple centuries ago. Which explained why it all tasted like shit but how was it still edible? She didn’t care as long as it kept her from starving to death.

So she sat there, chewing her pre-war pineapples and pondering what to do for the day. She was running out of scavenging spots for her comfort zone. She’d stayed there for so long there wasn’t much of anything left for her to take, no raiders left to plunder. Well, except the three from yesterday. She put down her can of fruit with a sigh; she had almost forgotten about the stragglers searching for her. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. She knew she could handle them, it was just the matter of finding them, and then the impending gunfight she’d undoubtedly have to be a part of. This didn’t seem like it would be a simple pick-’em-off job. She was going to actually have to try.

Deciding she could use the excitement, she armored up. She put her pistol under the waist of her pants and strapped the other two guns onto her backpack. She wasn’t used to carrying three weapons at once, but she could get used to it. It wasn’t as heavy as she expected. Still, she felt a little ridiculous. She probably looked like an ass, granted she didn’t quite remember what she looked like without the gun-nut backpack. Whatever though, she had some raiders to track.

Which Jak realized was a lot easier said than done. There wasn’t room for footprints on asphalt and debris. So she went around the block once, just to see if they were nearby, but she had no such luck. She knew where she had to look next. It felt tedious to go back to the same encampment three times but it made the most sense that the survivors of her attack would still be there, especially given the fact that they weren’t aware she knew there were survivors in the first place. If she couldn’t find them there then she didn’t know where they’d be. She’d wait till she crossed paths with them a different time.

There was a foul burning smell hanging in the air, thick with smoke, but she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. She watched the entrance to the raider camp from behind the wreckage of a car, spotting a new lookout. She noticed the gate was closed. She also noticed the bodies were gone, probably taken back into the camp. Things felt easier than expected as she unstrapped the rifle from her pack and looked through the scope, aiming right for the lookout’s head. She held her breath, finger on the trigger, and then--

“Night, night, asshole!”

* * * *

Jak felt sweat beading on her forehead. An acrid stench assaulted her nostrils. Slowly she opened her eyes. They burned as she tried to focus on what she was looking at. Three silhouettes were framed against what appeared to be a large pyre. She couldn’t tell what they were doing, possibly discussing something. She thought one looked very pissed off, as it gestured furiously with its hands, occasionally stamping its foot. The other two seemed at a loss. There was smoke everywhere. She gingerly lifted herself up. Her head was throbbing and sore to the touch. Quickly, she realized where she was. She reached for her pistol but it was gone. Her armor, her weapons, the backpack, gone. What she did see was the angry silhouette she identified as the female raider from the previous night approaching her. Jak tried to get up but she was still in a daze from the blow she had taken earlier. The woman, hardly any older than Jak, grabbed a handful of Jak’s hair and began to drag her towards the other raiders and the fire. Jak clawed at the raider’s hand viciously, fueled by the pain pulsating through her head. It felt like her head was going to explode.

“Get the fuck off of me!” she growled, on the verge of blacking out, but the raider kept dragging. Still clawing, she used her other hand to fumble in her pocket for her knife. Luckily it was the one thing they hadn’t taken. She lashed out behind her and sure enough there was a shriek. Jak collapsed again, trying to reorient herself. She wildly looked around for her equipment. She didn’t see it. Then she saw the ladder. Maybe her equipment was up there. If it wasn’t, she’d be trapped. But she wasn’t going to wait for them to get around to killing her. The raiders were arguing like idiots, and now was her chance.

“What the fuck, Netch, you said you had her!” spit the impatient one.

“I didn’t exactly plan on getting stabbed!” shouted Netch, clutching her now bleeding arm. “You and Badge were supposed to search her!”

“Pike said he checked her pockets!” roared Badge, the one with the rough voice.

“Don’t put this on me!”

“Both of you, shut the hell up! The bitch is gonna get away!” said Netch, still grasping her bleeding arm.

But when they turned around, Jak was gone. She had quickly but quietly crawled behind their backs and was already clambering up the ladder. She heard the raiders shout after her but she was already in the room. She kicked the ladder so it fell to the ground, buying her a small bit of time. She whipped around, trying to find her belongings. The body from the man with yellow teeth was gone but the blood still stained the center of the wooden floor. Her gear was nowhere to be seen. The only thing left in the room was a couple bricks and--

“The chest!” cried Jak to no one in particular. She felt her heart racing, and if her shit wasn’t in here she didn’t know what she’d do. Behind her, she heard the ladder being set up again. She inched closer to it, trying to stay out of firing range, and kicked it down again. She heard more infuriated shouts as the metal ladder hit the ground with a sharp clang. She stumbled over to the corner of the room and opened the chest. She felt a short burst of relief before putting on the armor and grabbing her shotgun. She crouched down, then faced the open side of the room, aiming the gun. She waited. She could hear the raiders bickering still, but she saw the ladder propped up for the third time. She didn’t kick it down this time though, she just waited. She heard footsteps coming up the ladder, but she kept her aim steady.

Up came Netch, and Jak watched the victorious sneer on her face turn into a horrified grimace before she pulled the trigger. The blast shook through her whole body, and her ears were ringing. She watched as the bloody mess that once was Netch fell, ladder and all. Something in her stirred uncomfortably, but she ignored it. Jak grabbed her other two guns from the chest, then pushed it close to the edge to serve as some sort of cover. It was much heavier than she expected.

With her pistol in hand, she peered down over the chest. Badge and Pike were crouched over Netch’s body. Seizing the moment, she pushed the chest over the edge, hearing a deep “What the fuck?!” from Badge before the sound of smashing wood signaled its landing. She looked back down at the raiders, groaning in pain underneath pieces of the chest. Neither of them did much moving, so she assumed her idea worked. They probably had some broken bones. Satisfied, she grabbed all her stuff, eased herself off the edge of the floor, feet first, and dropped down beside the downed raiders. One of them, Pike, grabbed her leg.

“The boys...at the Combat Zone ain’t gonna like this,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Just you wait….they’ll...they’ll notice us not showing up anymore and come looking. And then they’ll tell Apex, and he sure as hell...won’t be happy….”

“I don’t care about you, the next guy, or this Apex.” Jak replied coldly, shaking off the man's grip. “All you raider assholes are part of the same stain on this hellhole you and I call the Wasteland and I frankly don’t care if I end up wiping every last one of you out.”

“What makes you so...so different from us?” chimed in Badge.

“This.” she said, putting a bullet through his skull.

“What the fuck...is wrong with you?” cried Pike weakly. “You’re a fuckin’ monster!”

“Likewise.” She disposed of him too, just as easily. It was late. She was exhausted. Her head was still throbbing. And the pyre of what she finally guessed were corpses was making her feel nauseous. Too much just happened at once, and Jak was ready to go home.

* * * *

Trudging into her room, she shoved her weapons and pack into her trunk. She set her armor on top of it. With her pistol under her ragged pillow, she curled into a ball atop her sleeping bag and blanket, not bothering to cover up. Her mind was racing with what just happened. It was nothing new. She was used to killing. But all she could hear were Pike’s last words punctuated with a gunshot. Badge asking her what made her so different. Netch telling the two about her dead friends the previous night. Her face, marred from the shotgun blast. The vicious satisfaction she felt from killing. Only she didn’t feel satisfied anymore. She didn’t feel...well, anything.

Maybe...she was a monster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help it, I really wanted to get this chapter and the next posted because they go through *so* much and honestly waiting a week like I originally intended to do was gonna kill me. Super proud of where I go with this, so buckle up ;)
> 
> P.S.: The format is different than last chapter and I genuinely have no clue why, my apologies for that.

Jak woke up with a headache and a sinking feeling in her stomach. She slept surprisingly well with no disturbing dreams to remember, but now that she was awake she was forced to think of last night all over again. Trying her best to shove those thoughts away, she finished the can of pineapples from yesterday. However hard she tried though, something kept sticking out to her. Who was Apex? And where was this Combat Zone place? She’d never heard of either of them. What made them important? Since when did raiders work for one man? She hated to admit it but she was clueless. She needed answers, and there was only one person she knew who might actually have them. 

She would need to head to Diamond City, and keep a low profile while she was at it. It had been years since everything happened. Perhaps no one would recognize her, nothing beyond a strange sense of déjà vu. It was risky, but she needed to know what the hell was going on. 

* * * *

None of the guards stopped Jak as she walked through the entrance to Diamond City. No one confronted her except a lady in a long coat handing out newspapers and rambling about the Institute. All she did was wave a paper at her and comment that she’d never seen her before. Jak took the paper with a half hearted smile and a distracted thank-you. The lady cocked her eyebrow, confused, but said nothing. Jak kept walking. She was just focused on going where she needed to go. 

The vendors were hollering, people were congregating, and the noodle-making robot Takahashi could be heard taking orders. She ignored them all, even the enticing aroma of the noodles. Damn, she was hungry. She decided she’d get some after her business was taken care of. She headed down one of the narrow alleyways littered with trash and debris, past the crowded houses. A neon red sign depicting a heart with an arrow through it was lit, reading “Valentine Detective Agency.” She turned down the concrete corridor, stopping in front of the door. She took a deep breath before pushing it open.

“Valentine Detective Agency, may I help you?”

The receptionist was looking up from her desk. Jak recognized her as Ellie Perkins. She was a lot younger last time Jak saw her, but she was definitely recognizable. Jak only hoped Ellie didn’t recognize _ her. _ Trying to put on her best smile, she stepped up to the desk.

“Hi, I um, was wondering if Nick Valentine was here.” she said, trying to sound polite, not a habit she had needed for a long time. 

“Actually, yes, yes I am,” said the synth man himself, stepping out from a back room. He had a lit cigarette hanging out of his colorless lips. He dragged a chair up to the desk, seating himself next to Ellie. “What can I do for ya? Got a murder case? Missing person? Just last week I had a girl in here lookin’ for her son. Thinkin’ he was kidnapped, see? So what do you got for me?”

“You’ll have to excuse Nick here, things have been dragging on all week, not a lot of business.” said Ellie, addressing Jak’s confused reaction to Nick’s enthusiasm.

“What’s a guy supposed to do all day with no work, eh? I’d be dying here if I wasn’t the tin man we all know and love.” Somehow Nick’s glowing green eyes twinkled mischievously. Or Jak just imagined it. 

“Right,” replied Ellie, sarcastically drawing out the word. 

Nick leaned closer in his seat, a smirk on his face, waiting for Jak’s problems to come spilling out in some magnificent cascade. 

“Questions,” she sighed. “All I have today are questions.” 

“Hey, it’s a hell of a start,” he chuckled, nudging Ellie with his mechanical elbow. She rolled her eyes, smiling. “C’mon then, hit me. Pull up a chair if you have to.”

Jak did, bringing an old wooden chair up across from the dynamic duo. “First things first, I wanna know what and where the Combat Zone is.”

“The Combat Zone, eh? That’s an old theater-turned-raider fight club just northeast of here. If you can find Trinity Tower, which is pretty hard to miss, I mean a giant radio tower full of Super Mutants isn’t my idea of subtle, but when you get there, your destination’s a little ways over east of that. It’s a big place with a big sign, lots of light. You’ll find it.” Then with a chuckle, “Although I don’t know why you’d want to. Anything else?”

“Does the name Apex sound familiar to you?”

“Hmmm...you know, I can’t say that it does. Who’d you hear it from?”

“A raider,” replied Jak hastily. She didn’t want to share any of the gruesome details. “I heard a raider say it. He said it as if this Apex was some kinda leader.”

Nick’s eyes searched the desk, as if reading an answer. He made a sound indicating he was thinking. “Well, it certainly _ sounds _ like the name of a leader. A ruthless one at that. Still, it’s not like your average raider gang to have some kind of higher power, much less obey one.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” 

“Yeah, well great minds think alike.” 

Ellie snorted beside him.

“What, it’s a compliment.” Turning back to Jak, he added, “You know though, in these past few years, or at least what feels like ‘em, I’ve heard a lot of reports of raider gangs becoming more organized, as if there was some puppet master pulling around on some strings. There’s been less territorial disputes and more general and quite frankly unsettling cooperation between these groups. And I’ve known some big raider groups before, ones with fancy names and leaders and such, and they’re out there too, but some of these? These are just your average scummy Wasteland Joes and Janes. It’s not like them to work together, not the way I’m hearin’ it….”

A troubled silence fell upon the room. Ellie was staring at the surface of the desk. Nick appeared lost in thought. 

“And this raider never mentioned anything else, huh?” he asked curiously, abruptly breaking the silence.

“Well he said something about ‘the boys at the Combat Zone’,” answered Jak, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I don’t really know the context behind it, it was just something I overheard.” 

“Maybe someone at the Zone knows something. Of course if there are any answers there, nobody’s gonna want to give them up. But you might be able to figure something out with a little...friendly persuasion.” Nick injected the last two words with a heavy dose of sarcasm before raising his brows. “What do you think?”

“It’s risky but….” Jak sighed. “It could be worth it. Guess I won’t know till I try.”

“Guess so,” he replied. “Say, if you need a little help along the way just let me know. And if you find anything out, feel free to stop by, share the details, you know?”

“Thanks, Nick. If I need you I’ll let you know. And I’ll be sure to share whatever I figure out with you.”

“Great, great. Safe travels then. Glad I could be of use.” 

As Jak walked back towards the door, he added, “By the way, I never caught your name.”

Jak hesitated. Heart racing, she turned around, trying to smile. “It’s uh...I go by Lauren .”

“Lauren, gotcha….” His luminescent eyes lingered curiously, but he nodded. “See you around then, Lauren. Come back in one piece.” 

Nodding, Jak left the agency, hoping the crisis was averted.

* * * *

Jak ordered some of the noodles like she promised herself she would. With a full stomach, something she hadn’t had in awhile, she set out after the Combat Zone. She could see the old radio tower that Nick talked about. She’d actually seen it several times, though only from a distance. Making her way through the ruined streets, she only remembered the super mutant-infested bit until she got close enough to see the hulking green brutes inside. She’d only encountered super mutants once before, and even then she kept her distance. She intended to sneak by the tower without having to confront the mutants. However, halfway through her attempt she heard guttural cries of “Human!” and “Filthy vermin!” She started to run, ignoring the grotesque jeers, but they started firing at her. Jak broke into a full out sprint. Luckily the damn things couldn’t hit a moving target. She escaped, free of harm, and continued east.

Pretty soon she found herself amidst what once must have been the city’s entertainment district. She passed several ruined buildings that appeared to be some sort of theaters, but it was hard to tell. There was so much rubble in this area. There was a wooden fence with a gate, lying open, and through it she saw a strand of lights strung out between two street lamps. As she crept closer, she saw more leading to what she could obviously tell was a theater, with a large sign reading--

“Combat Zone,” Jak whispered to herself. There was a burning trash can off to the side, and next to it, two raiders conversing. Jak didn’t want to start shooting just yet. It would draw too much attention from inside, and she didn’t need that, not right now. She had an idea. She started towards them.

“Hey, hey, hold it girly. We ain’t ever seen you ‘round here before,” called out one of the raiders. 

“Yeah, you look a little lost.” added the other. Both drew their weapons, pointing at her. 

“Easy fellas, I’m new here. Just got picked up by Netch’s crew. “

The first raider looked her up and down. He then shared looks with his partner, and they both laughed mockingly.

“Netch? Pickin’ a scrawny bitch like you? Get outta here before you get shot.”

“Now,” added the second. 

“She knew you’d say that. She sent me here as a sorta test. To see if I could hold my own around other groups. Get wasted with them. Not cause any trouble, y’know? Get along like one happy and dysfunctional family, as she put it.”

“Sounds like some shit Netch would say,” muttered the second raider. The first shot him a look before looking back at Jak.

“You know, this don’t exactly happen everyday.”

“Well, I take it she doesn’t hire scrawny bitches like myself everyday either. But today she did.” she said, lips curled into a smirk.

“What’s your name?” he asked, sighing.

“Scar.”

Both raiders laughed again. “Tough name for a tough girl, is that right? Look, whatever man. I ain’t crossin’ Netch. She’d rat my ass out to Apex, and I don’t need that shit. Go on in. But don’t go causin’ any trouble. Folks here might just send you back to Netch in a body bag.”

“I won’t,” Jak said, still smirking. “Promise.” 

As she pulled open one of the double doors, the raider called after her, “I was just kidding about you bein’ a scrawny bitch. Don’t go tellin’ Netch I was pickin’ on her newest pickin’.”

She chuckled sarcastically, and walked inside the Combat Zone.

Upon entering the foyer, she noticed a pair of raiders locked away behind some counters. There were signs and carvings all around and behind the counters dubbing the pair “Rule breakers.” The actual rules were hastily scrawled across the walls. There was a second pair of double doors ahead of the first. Behind them Jak heard the muffled sounds of cheering, shouting, laughter, as expected from a crowd of raiders watching a fight. She looked back at the raiders behind the counter, on their knees, hands bound behind their backs. They glared indifferently at her, but said nothing. She realized maybe _ they _ knew something, and what better opportunity to get answers from a raider than now? She used the security terminal to unlock the door. Technology wasn’t her area of expertise, but she’d been around long enough to figure out how to hamper with most terminals. 

“What the fuck do you want?” asked one of the prisoners bitterly as Jak walked into the makeshift cell. Jak crouched down in front of her.

“I’m Scar. I’m gonna get you out of here but you gotta give me some answers first.”

The raider spit at her. “Fuck you,” she said.

“Let’s try this again,” said Jak, annoyed. “Who’s Apex?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” replied the raider. 

The other raider snorted. Jak turned to look at him. 

“You’re never gonna find him, ‘specially asking two trapped bastards like us. If we knew a thing or two we wouldn’t have been dumb enough to get our asses locked up.”

Sighing, Jak stood up. Things didn’t go exactly as she expected, but she should’ve known better. She walked out of the cell. 

“Hey, aren’t you gotta let us go?” the man called after her. 

“Nope,” she answered, then she quietly entered the theater. 

The noise assailed her ears. It would take a lot for anyone to notice her anyways. There was only half a dozen raiders spread out through the seats but they were almost deafening. The place smelled like old alcohol and rotting food and other, more appalling odors. Built around the ruined seating area were various haphazard constructions housing tables and counters and the like. One even contained a poor imitation of a kitchen, complete with a stove and a refrigerator, both clearly incapable of working. There wasn’t much light, only a few more string lights like the ones outside and the spotlights that shone down on the stage. 

On said stage was a sizeable cage built from metal scaffolding and wooden boards. The entire thing was circled by coils of barbed wire, and a lengthy strand of lights ran around it. Inside the cage was a red-haired woman, clad in a brown leather corset and tan pants with a few patches stitched into the legs. Her forearms were wrapped in leather with studs close to the knuckles, and she wore steel toed boots laced up a little past her ankles. Her opponent didn’t appear remarkably special. On the contrary Jak thought it looked like he was getting his ass kicked by the red-head. To the side of the cage looked like the announcer. He was a fairly tall ghoul man in a very old and dirty looking white suit. He was as absorbed into the fight as the rest of the sparse crowd was. 

Truthfully Jak had no idea what she was going to do right now. All she had brought was her pistol and pocket knife for the sake of not drawing attention. Slitting throats wasn’t the easiest, or the cleanest, and it would be one hell of an assumption to think no one would notice someone choking on their own blood. Even if it _ did _go unnoticed, that would still only be one down. So maybe--no, Jak forgot for a second that she needed answers. That was why she was here in the first place. But how was she going to get answers from one person without alarming everyone else? The pair outside was convinced she was a new recruit, but how was she going to sway a handful of them in the midst of a cage fight? 

She took a hard look at the positions of each raider. Most were down in the front row. One was close to her, a couple rows away. Another was watching from one of the structures, towards the left of the cage. So, still in front. It seemed her best bet was to try talking to the one closest to her. She hoped all the cheering and fighting would provide enough cover for her to get some answers. Taking a deep breath, she strode forward, taking a seat next to the raider. He hardly noticed her presence until she spoke. 

“Hey, name’s Scar. I’m Netch’s new recruit.” she told him, trying to seem relaxed.

He turned with a dark look. He didn’t seem surprised, which was perhaps a good sign, but Jak couldn’t read his expression at all. She held her breath, keeping her hand close to her pistol, fully aware he had an assault rifle in the chair next to him. 

“Didn’t know Netch had one,” he finally answered sharply. 

“She didn’t want anyone to know. She sent me here to see how I get along with the other crews. See if I’m a troublemaker or not.”

“Well?” he asked, rather impatiently. “What do you want from me?”

“Honestly? I had a question.”

“Honesty don’t get you very far out here. That’s all the advice I have to give, now what?”

“No, no, no advice, an actual question. About a person.”

“And who might that be?”

“Apex...I was wondering if you could tell me who Apex is. 

He sighed, loudly, so much so that Jak glanced around her to be sure no one else had noticed. “Netch didn’t even tell you about Apex?”

Jak shook her head. She didn’t really have to fake this part, she genuinely needed to know who this Apex was. 

“Well...can’t have you running around without knowing who Apex is. Might end up dead.” He paused, looking back at the fight. The redhead still appeared to have the upper hand, but her opponent refused to give. “Apex is the guy keeping all these raider gangs in check. They all work for him. In some way or another, he’s convinced all the leaders of the different factions to be his allies, whether he talked, bribed, intimidated, or straight up dominated them in order to achieve the results he wanted.” 

He started pointing out different raiders in the room. Jak hadn’t paid attention to them too much, but she noticed they all wore different armors and such. This one wore some sort of black armored jumpsuit. “That guy’s from a group called the Stalkers. Their leader’s called Wolfe. They specialize, as you might imagine, in stealth. Some of their higher-ups actually have some kind of weird pre-war Chinese stealth armor. Makes them damn-near invisible. I don’t know how the hell it works or where they even got the suits from but it’s not my place to question.” The next one he pointed out wore dirty white plate armor she recognized as the stuff Institute synths wore. “That one over there is from the Prophets, led by a guy named Elijah. Bunch of technology freaks if you ask me. ‘Bout the only damn group I’ve seen out here that uses stolen Institute tech. But they’re ruthless as hell. Apex seems to favor them for that reason.”

Continuing, he said “You obviously know the Reavers, ‘cause you’re one of them. Netch is your leader. A bit of a wild card, she is. But loyal, she’s very loyal. Apex likes that a lot.”

Jak hadn’t known Netch’s group held some kind of importance. She felt a creeping sense of dread, hoping Apex never found out that she was responsible for wiping out one of his factions. But she still needed to pay attention to this raider. 

“Bloodsworn,” he said, gesturing to a woman in rags, fur, scraps of metal, and what appeared to be bones. She looked like some sort of tribal warrior Jak saw in a pre-war comic book once, except for the swirling scars covering her body like tattoos. “Led by a girl they call Tooth. They’re savage, relentless, bloodthirsty...rumor has it they perform human sacrifices, though no one really knows why, or if they really do in the first place. Scary ones, they are. Anyways, last, and...maybe least, Enigma.”

The woman he pointed to wore a strange robe with crudely plated shoulders. Her face was covered in strange painted symbols. “No one really knows _ anything _ about those guys. None of them seem to have names. They don’t talk. Their leader calls herself ‘The Great Speaker'. Supposedly she’s the only one allowed to speak for the entire group. Seems like a whole bunch of occult bullshit to me, but Apex has his reasons for everyone.”

He paused for a long moment. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m a part of the Dishonored. If I’m being honest here--”

Jak found this ironic.

“--me and you are part of the most undistinguished factions out here. Like the Reavers, us Dishonored aren’t anything special. Our leader ain’t much either, name’s Jag, he’s not the brightest. 

Doesn’t matter though, we work for Apex now. He aims to build a sort of empire from the fear of the common people of the Wasteland and the hard work of his acquired laborers. He sends caravans to keep his armies supplied and deliver messages. Even slaves. He gets a real kick out of slavery it seems. Sometimes he shows up here. But most of the time he’s gone and we have to fend for ourselves. ” 

Jak felt a shiver creep across her skin. 

“Slavery…,” she said quietly. She felt a little sick.

“Yeah, he wants to rule the Commonwealth. And no one is around to stop him. Even if there was, no one could stand up to him. He’s made sure of that. None of us even know where he holes up at. The only ones with any kind of knowledge are the leaders of our factions.”

Chewing on her lip, Jak tried to process everything she’d just heard. Things were starting to make sense, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure how one man was breaking all of these vicious groups into submission.

Just then the announcer for the fight grabbed the microphone.

“Once again, our Irish beauty Cait has kicked another sorry sucker’s ass!” 

The tiny crowd erupted into a roar of cheering. Except, Jak noticed, the Enigma raider, who simply stood up and clapped. The Dishonored beside her hollered a couple times. 

“Cait there’s the best damn fighter here,” he said to her amidst the noise. 

Jak made a sound of agreement. Staring at the redhead, she felt something strange stir up from inside her. But she ignored it. 

“That’s our last fight for today, folks,” called out the announcer. “Unless, of course, one of you men--or women,” he said, winking at Cait. “Want to step up to our champ here!”

“You know nobody here has the stomach to get pummeled by a woman!” shouted the Bloodsworn. The others shouted out in response.

“Then why don’t you go up there yourself?” retorted the Stalker.

The Dishonored gave Jak a rough nudge with his elbow, nodding towards the ring. She shook her head, but he kept insisting, saying “You wanna prove your worth? Go up there and fight.” 

She really didn’t want to. She wasn’t exactly the fistfighting type. And she really didn’t want to face the girl they called Cait, who was most certainly the fistfighting type. Jak decided she was running out of rope. She had her answers. She could just leave, right now. 

Still, running out of the theater would attract a lot of attention. The Dishonored would probably call her out, heads would turn, a pursuit could follow. 

But...she needed out of here. Jak decided it was better than trying to take out all these raiders. Without thinking she stood up ready to--

“Ahh! A volunteer from the audience!” enthused Tommy. “A pretty one, too. Looks like we’re gonna have ourselves a catfight!” 

The raiders laughed and rowdily cheered. Jak’s heart sank. She wasn’t ready for this. 

“What’s wrong, doll? Ain’t ya gonna come up here?”

Jak felt like she was in a daze as she slowly walked towards the stage. She glanced at the raiders she passed, disturbed especially by the Bloodsworn woman. Then Jak noticed a raider she hadn’t earlier. Hatred bubbled up from inside her. He wore tattered red cloth that crossed his right shoulder and a butcher’s hook wrapped around his waist. But what she really recognized was the mask he wore, a jawless human skull, punctured with scraps of metal, strapped to his face.

“I don’t want her,” Jak announced, still staring at the masked raider. “I want him.” And she pointed him out. The rest of the audience followed her gaze. A hush fell over them. Jak could hear exasperated whispers being exchanged, but she couldn’t discern any words

“I, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea, doll,” started Tommy nervously. “He’s one of--”

“Him,” she repeated. The masked raider had a confident smirk on his face.

“You really, really shouldn’t--”

“It’s alright Tommy. If she wants a deathwish, she’s got one.” The masked raider stood up and walked to the stage. Cait hurried over to Tommy.

“Tommy, what the hell is goin’ on?'' she demanded with a heavy accent Jak had never heard before. "I thought I was gonna--”

“Shut up,” he spat at her. “Just get out of the way.”

Cait muttered something along the lines of “Fuck you too, then” to Tommy.

Jak removed her armor then strode into the cage. The now-unmasked raider followed suit, cracking his knuckles and neck. His jaw was crooked, probably broken a few times before. Tommy shut the cage behind him. Jak readied herself, knuckles white, jaw clenched. The raider stood haughtily before her, hands balled into fists at his sides.

All Jak heard was Tommy shout “Fight!”

She launched herself at the raider. 


	3. Chapter 3

Jak landed the first punch, then another, and another. She took a couple blows, threw some more. The raider swept his leg, taking Jak’s feet out from under her. She fell on her back, hard. The raider aimed a kick at her, but she rolled to the side, quickly getting back on her feet. The raiders spectating occasionally oohed and aahed but they kept relatively quiet. The theater was thick with tension. The fight was fairly balanced until the raider shoved his foot into Jak’s stomach. She collapsed to all fours, coughing and retching painfully. The raider stomped on her back with a chuckle. Jak cried out, pain streaking down her back, taking sharp, stabbing breaths. 

“This’ll teach you your place, maggot.” The raider growled, lashing out with one more kick. 

Jak grabbed his ankle with both hands. She pulled, as hard as she could, yanking him down to the stage floor. Gasps erupted from around the room. Fueled by pain, hatred, and adrenaline, she threw herself on top of him, knees pinning his arms. She pummeled his face, rocking his head from side to side with each blow. Tears, snot, and blood streaked down Jak’s face as she continued her violent assault. Somewhere she heard someone screaming, but she didn’t know who. All she could focus on was the swollen, broken face of the raider, the thudding each blow of her fists made, the memories she’d tried so hard to run away from. They were coming back, the cage, the figures, the stars, the moon, the blood, the emptiness. It was all coming back. Sobbing, panting, her arms were weak, her knuckles split, her hands covered in blood. She couldn’t tell who’s it was anymore. She stood up on her shaking legs and stumbled over to the cage door.

“Let me out,” she hissed. Tommy opened it, then backed away quickly, as if Jak was some kind of animal waiting to pounce on him. She collapsed and scrambled over to where she left her armor and gun. She tried to regain her senses, but all she could feel was the sticky warmth of blood and the pain that racked her body. In the background, some of the raiders were yelling at each other.

“She just took out one of Apex’s guys! Now we’re all fucked!”

“Not if he doesn’t know!”

“Bullshit, he figures everything out!”

“He can have her, then!”

“Yeah! He can deal with her personally!”

Jak’s mind was swirling, fading in and out of focus. If that was one of Apex’s lackies, then that meant….

“Hey you! Whatever you did, you really fucked up, you know that? You should get the hell out of here!”

Jak looked up to see Cait kneeling beside her. 

“Go on! Before they all stop shoutin’!”

Jak looked around, noticing how riled up everyone was, conversing in outraged voices. Even the Enigma raider was frantically waving her arms. It was almost comical. 

“One sec,” she muttered to Cait. She grabbed her pistol and stood up slowly. One hand cradled her stomach while the other aimed the gun at the Prophet. She decided there was no use in running away now. Everyone would see her. So if she only had one chance to strike with surprise, she wanted to use it on the target with the most potential to be a threat. She took a deep breath.

“Wait a minute, what are you--” Caits words were cut off by the gunshot.

The Prophet fell to the ground, and Jak staggered as fast as she could, amidst the invisible blades raking her body, to the nearest counter. She took cover, panting, while the rest of the raiders, who were already out for her blood to begin with, started shouting orders at each other. She peeked out from the side of the counter, taking note of everyone’s locations. The Enigma crouched behind her seat, holding a strange looking gun. The Bloodsworn was behind a counter, doing something with a jagged blade. The Dishonored was weaving his way between seats, looking around for their assailant. Jak felt a brief pang of guilt. This man might’ve began to trust her. Doubtfully, though. But it was no matter now. Soon they’d all be dead. 

The only one she had trouble seeing was the Stalker. Soon enough she found him. Even he couldn’t escape her eyes. Despite appearing almost invisible, there was enough light behind him to emphasize his shimmering shape. Jak decided to take him next. She aimed for his head and pulled the trigger a few times. The air around him shimmered as he dropped dead. The others returned fire in her direction as she pulled herself back behind the counter. She crept around it, heading to the next section of the structure she was in, keeping behind walls and counters as much as she could. Jak popped up over her cover, shooting at the Bloodsworn--who was madly dashing towards her with a ferocious yell. Jak only hit her once, in the arm, but she kept coming. Jak fired a few more times, forcing the Bloodsworn behind cover once more. Jak ducked back down, just as a strange violet beam singed the wall ahead of her. When she next surfaced the counter, she saw the Enigma raider, just before another violet beam was let loose from the strange gun.

It hit Jak’s arm, searing the flesh that it contacted. She yelped, firing off at the Enigma, but missing in the process as tears of pain blurred her vision. She went back down, scrutinizing the still-smoking scorch mark on her arm. The flesh was black, charred and flaking and, well, burning. Jak wiped her stinging eyes with her good arm before rising once more, gritting her teeth and firing at the Enigma. Jak pulled herself down before seeing if she hit, but the heavy thud on the floor indicated her aim was true.

She heard footsteps, but she couldn’t tell where they were heading. She kept her eye on the doorway. She saw a shadow, so she crept to the small end of the counter. As the footsteps drew nearer, Jak leaned out and pointed her gun at--

“Cait?!” Jak said, taken aback. “This isn’t your fight, go! You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

“I could say the same about yourself,” she replied hastily, crouching beside Jak with a double-barrel shotgun. “Besides, I don’t have much runnin’ for me anyways.” 

Jak didn’t understand, but she wasn’t going to deny that she needed the assistance. So she just nodded to Cait, then glanced over the counter again. She had the angle on the Bloodsworn, who was smearing her own blood across her body like warpaint. Jak was preparing to take her out before the Dishonored sent a spray of bullets at her, splintering the wooden walls and counter. 

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Cait under her breath as she stood up to retaliate.

Jak heard the Dishonored cry out in pain. She peered over the counter. The Dishonored was clutching his side, aiming his assault rifle with one shaky hand. Jak ducked away before another barrage of bullets erupted where her head was moments ago. Bracing herself, she quickly returned fire, one, two, three times. Meanwhile, the Bloodsworn was nowhere to be found. Everything fell silent, except for the occasional creak of the building. 

“Is-is it over?” called out Tommy. 

Jak cautiously limped out of her hiding spot, Cait following behind her. Tommy was cowering inside the cage.

“Did you see the bloody one, Tommy?” Cait asked, carefully searching around the room.

“No, I think she’s dead.”

“Well if she wasn’t, she should’ve killed us by now,” Jak announced to the seemingly empty room. Her pistol was still in her hand. Her body still ached. Her face was crusted with blood. She was vulnerable. If a psycho covered in her own blood wanted Jak dead, she’d be dead by now. 

“Over here,” Cait gestured towards a different enclosure. 

As Jak approached it, she saw a circle of blood, with the Bloodsworn corpse within it. She held a crude knife in her hand, and both her wrists had been sliced open.

“What a fuckin’ weirdo,” Cait groaned.

“No kidding,” Jak agreed, grimacing. She’d never seen anything quite so...disturbing. 

“Yeah, whoo, hurray for coming out alive from the bloodbath that just happened, but what the hell are we going to do now? All our clients are gone! And you almost got us killed!” Tommy exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Jak. 

“Heh. I dunno.” chuckled Cait. “Seemed quite the performance from where I was standin’.”

“Are you fuckin’ high or something?” Tommy scorned. “Why am I askin’, of course you are.”

“Still won the fight, didn’t I?” argued Cait. 

Jak almost forgot Cait had a fight to begin with. It seemed like forever ago. 

“You’re strung out and gettin’ sloppy is what you are.” Then he shot a dirty look at Jak. “‘Course, I suppose you ain’t gotta worry about that now. Seems this one just put us outta business. I’m not sure if I should kiss you or have my little bird here feed you your own entrails.”

“I told ya to quit callin’ me that!” Cait exclaimed.

“Look, just patch me up and I’ll be out of here. There’s shit you don’t quite understand, and you don’t need to understand.” Jak sat on the steps to the stage, gingerly prodding her body for the worst of her injuries, regretting not having a stimpak on her. She was starting to rely too much on the odds being in her favor today, a terrible mistake. 

“Patch you up? Doll--

“Don’t call her that,” Cait muttered.

“--you just killed our clientele. They weren’t the friendliest bunch but keepin’ those idiots entertained at least kept the lights on.”

“To hell with ‘em. More’ll come,” said Cait. “Just need a quick breather and I’ll be ready to go.”

“A breather? What?” Tommy chuckled in disbelief. “So you can slam more of that junk into your arm? And then what? The only way we’re gonna get more clients is when they catch on that somethin’ went down and come to put us six feet under.” He sighed, kicking his foot across the stage floor. “No, no. You know what? I think this was a blessing in disguise. Hey, doll--”

“I told ya not to call her that!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jak winced as she stood up, turning to scowl at Tommy. “She’s right, drop the bullshit name. What do you want?”

“Hey, easy, you’re the one blowin’ up my turf here. Besides, I never caught another name to work with.” He raised his brows expectantly.

Jak said nothing.

“Okay, whatever. What’d ya think of Cait’s work?”

The question struck Jak as odd. She felt like this was a setup for something. She was getting tired of this man. She didn’t need another headache. “She kicked ass, what’s your point?”

“See? ‘Least someone knows skill when they see it.” Cait said proudly. 

“It ain’t your fightin’ skills I’m concerned with,” said Tommy sharply, glaring at Cait. Then, turning back to Jak, “So here’s my predicament. I suddenly got no audience. No audience means I got no caps in. The only things I got are some corpses and a death sentence, unless I get the hell out of here. Now if you ain’t bringin’ in caps, little bird--”

“Don’t call her that,” snapped Jak.

Tommy gave her a cold stare before turning back to Cait. “--you ain’t an asset. You’re a liability. To me...and to yourself.” 

Cait narrowed her eyes at him. 

“So,” he said to Jak with a sigh. “Here’s what I’m thinkin’. What say I let you take over her contract?”

“She has a contract?” Jak asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Unfortunately,” grumbled Cait.

“Hey, you agreed to it!” Tommy snapped. 

“But why--” Jak started

“Look,” Tommy interrupted. 

It was Jak’s turn to narrow her eyes. 

“You’d be doin’ me a favor while I try to get the place back in order. Or run for my goddamn life,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Me? And her?” Cait smirked.

“You really wanna send her off with the girl that just killed your business and unintentionally marked you as a dead man?” Jak asked sardonically.

“Yeah, Tommy? Just why the hell you tryin’ to get rid of me?” Cait demanded. 

“Look, truth is, all that _ junk _, it’s been makin’ you careless,” said Tommy, sounding defeated. “And I don’t wanna be the one doin’ color commentary when you finally hit the floor. Alright? So just do me this favor. Both of you. Please.”

“Well, what about Cait?” asked Jak.

“Don’t I get a say in all this?” Cait chimed in.

“That ain’t how a contract works. Besides, you really wanna stay here? No audience. No caps. No one to talk to but yours truly.” 

“Jesus,” Cait groaned, crossing her arms. “Point taken.”

“Atta girl,” Tommy faced Jak. “So, she’s on board. Now what about you?”

Jak glanced at Cait. She was staring at Jak, green eyes full of...was it hope? She couldn’t tell. 

“Fine, I’ll take her with me.” 

“Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “It’s settled then.” 

Cait stepped closer to him. “Now just wait a second. What exactly are you gonna do without me here?” 

Tommy adopted a bitter smile. “Doesn’t matter. Just get the hell out of here. You ain’t welcome anymore, little bird.”

Without warning, Cait slammed her fist into the side of Tommy’s face. “You ain’t callin’ me that anymore, you son of a bitch!”

“Just go!” Tommy growled, shoving her away, his scarred and sallow skin bruising. He open and closed his mouth several times, hand on his jaw.

“Let’s get outta here, Cait,” Jak said. “There’s nothin’ left for you here.”

“Fine by me,” Cait said, flexing the fingers on the hand she just punched Tommy with. Her knuckles were red, but not bleeding. 

Jak put on her armor and shuffled past the bodies of the raiders, heading back up towards the foyer, Cait following behind her. Somewhere along the way she fell, but Cait caught her, lifting her back to her feet. 

“Here ya go,” Cait said, putting her arm around Jak’s waist.

Jak draped her arm over Cait’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” mumbled Jak. She wasn’t used to having someone helping her out. Then again, she wasn’t used to being so physically incapacitated either. Granted, it was her own fault, and she knew it, and she’d do it all over again if she had to. She had no regrets for what went down tonight. None at all. Still, she wished she had a stimpak with her. She definitely regretted that.

As they passed the imprisoned raiders, she heard them talking in hushed tones. Jak stopped limping along, and Cait noticed the prisoners. 

“Do you think we should take out those bastards, too?” she asked Jak.

Jak just shook her head and kept walking.

“You’re fucked, you know that?” one of them called after her. 

Jak just smiled. But that reminded her, the guards from earlier could still be outside. 

“Cait, I think there’s a couple of them outside still.”

“Still? You think they didn’t just hear that whole shite show?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything at all from outside. Although gunshots are definitely more noticeable.”

“Hmm...they would’ve came in already, don’t ya think?”

Sighing, Jak figured Cait was right. “Well, we should at least be prepared to take ‘em out.”

“Agreed.”

Cait slowly let go of Jak, making sure she could stand. They grabbed their guns, Jak with her pistol, Cait with her shotgun. Cait kicked one of the doors open, ready to let loose on the guards, but it was empty outside. And a lot later than Jak realized. The sky was turning a dark blue, the last of the sun’s light creeping out over the ruins of the city. The strands of lights illuminated the path. Cait signaled for Jak to stay back while she went ahead. After making sure the coast was clear, Cait went back for Jak. 

“Can you walk on your own or do you still need me?” she asked Jak, who was leaning against the side of the theater. 

Jak thought Cait sounded genuine, like she really wanted to know if she’d be okay. Admittedly, it made Jak feel...good. She’d always been alone and independent, pretty much all her life. Something about Cait having her back made her...happy. Something she hadn’t felt in awhile. But she knew it would be short lived. She _ just _met this person, and surely they were about to go their separate ways.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she told Cait. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Cait said, attempting to smile. “So...I suppose I have to do whatever you say, huh? What with the contract and all….”

Jak looked up at Cait. “To hell with that contract. You’re free now. I’m not taking you out of one cage and putting you in another.”

“You...you really mean that?” asked Cait, her face lighting up.

“Yeah, I really mean it.”

“Well...thank you,” she said, sounding shocked. “I...I don’t really know what else to say!”

“You...don’t have to say anything, Cait. It’s okay.”

Cait looked as if she was tearing up, but she quickly looked away. She cleared her throat. “So, ah, what’re you goin’ to do now?”

“I don’t exactly know,” replied Jak, inspecting her bloodstained hands, split knuckles, throbbing burn. Her breathes were shorter, labored, and her body ached in all the places the raider had beat her. She was pretty roughed up. “I guess I’ll go home and get myself cleaned up.”

“Home? Out here?”

“As close to one as I can manage, yep.”

“Huh. Sounds...nice. This hellhole has been me home for a while, a right awful one, but...as close to one as I could manage,” Cait said, somberly echoing Jak’s words. 

Jak sort of felt sorry for her. “You...you could come back with me, if you want,” she offered Cait, albeit reluctantly. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing. “I mean if you have nowhere else to go...and it’s late...so maybe….”

“Oh, uh, are you sure?” Cait hesitated. “I don’t wanna get in your way or anythin’, I just meant--”

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have offered,” Jak said, trying on a smirk. 

“Well...shite, why the hell not?” she gave in, smiling. Cait turned away before stopping again. “Ain’t ya gonna tell me your name?”

Jak had completely forgotten. “Damn, sorry, there was so much and I….” she trailed off as Cait raised her eyebrows, still smiling. “Jak. My name’s Jak.”

“Nice to meet ya, Jak.” Cait said with a hint of a wink. 

Jak just smiled. She was pretty sure.

“Follow me,” she said.

“I signed the contract,” Cait mumbled in mock resignation.


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s a hell of a lot better than what I’m used to,” said Cait, checking out Jak’s room. “‘Least it doesn’t smell.”

Jak snorted, spilling some of her water bottle. “It doesn’t smell like raiders and filth, but it still smells.”

“Well I certainly can’t smell anything,” Cait halfway giggled. 

“If you say so,” Jak said. She used the rest of her water bottle to get the blood off her face and hands. She didn’t have a mirror, so she relied on Cait’s awkward “You missed a spot” and “A little over here.” After ensuring she was clean, Jak rummaged in her trunk, looking for the stimpaks she found the other day. Finally grasping one, her hand trembling slightly due to her exhaustion, she eased the needle into her arm. Almost immediately a surge of pure adrenaline rushed through her body, numbing all but a trace of the pain. The burns and bruises marked on her flesh appeared half healed already. Her gaze turned down to her bloodied clothes. Sighing, she rummaged through for her other clothes, fully aware of how ridiculous it seemed to have spare outfits in a time like this, maybe even greedy. But Jak knew clothes ripped, and stained, and in general got dirty. Besides, she’d been wearing the same outfit for what felt like weeks, and she didn’t have enough water at the moment to try and bring it to some semblance of clean. She found them, just a ragged pair of pants and a slightly ripped shirt. Jak took off her armor, setting it down in the trunk. Then she took off her vest, her blood and sweat soaked shirt, and began removing her pants before--

“Oh, should I, uh, leave for a minute?” Cait said, who had been overlooking the city from one of the balconies. She nervously shifted from one foot to the other.

Jak looked back at her, confused, before realizing the problem. She hurriedly put on the other clothes, rambling the whole time. “Sorry, I’m, uh, not used to being around other people. Usually I can just, you know, strip naked in the middle of this room without a care about anyone else. I guess I’m just not used to bounda--”

Cait tried to giggle again, though this time it sounded slightly forced, uncomfortable. “You’re fine, I just...have bad experiences with...and I thought you were...I was ready to...just….” 

Jak was lost, considering they had just met and already Cait was ready to...well, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Cait, I’m...not gonna hurt you. I--”

“How do I know that? How do I know I won’t end up like that bastard you beat into a bloody pulp back--”

“That was something _ entirely _ different, I wouldn’t--

“--and I keep asking myself what if you just turn out to be another Tommy and--”, she continued, waving her hands as she talked and paced around the room.

“You’re comparing me to Tommy? You don’t even know me, I--”

“Exactly! You could be _ worse _ than Tommy, you could be--”

“Cait, you have to listen to me!” Jak snapped, attempting to reassuringly grab hold of Cait’s shoulders. “I’m not Tommy! And I won’t hurt you! You’re the first decent human being I’ve interacted with in a long time and I wouldn’t just throw that away!” Jak took a deep breath. Where did this come from? _ She just met this girl _!

Tears spilled from Cait’s eyes, glistening like emeralds, down her freckled cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, but she couldn’t help but to keep crying. 

Jak sighed, not out of anger or annoyance, but out of...empathy? “Look, we both just have to...get used to each other, and being around people in general. _ If _ you even wanna stay around. You can leave first thing tomorrow morning, if that’s what you want. I’m just--”

“I’m stickin’ around for as long as you let me,” Cait interrupted. “I told ya, I don’t got anywhere else to be.”

“And that’s fine, but that means we both have to try and trust each other, okay?”

Cait nodded through her tears. “Yeah.” 

Jak gave her shoulder a light squeeze, not knowing what else to do. She wasn’t good with comforting people, helping people, just, _ people. _ Something about Cait made Jak really want to try. Maybe it was the hopeful glint she caught in her eyes, Jak didn’t know. But she didn’t want to lose her. 

“I really do appreciate what you’ve done for me today,” sniffed Cait. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Cait.” Jak started to turn away, but she stopped. “Follow me...I wanna show you something.” She picked up her mattress. “Do me a favor and grab that blanket and sleeping bag.”

Cait obliged, looking confused. “Sure, but what are you--”

“Just follow me.”

“Whatever ya say, boss,” Cait teased, voice still wet from crying. She followed Jak up the stairs. As Jak opened the door to the roof, Cait gasped, her reddened eyes wide as she marveled at the sky, a murky black ocean dotted with stars.

“They’re...beautiful,” she murmured. “I haven’t seen the stars since….” She trailed off and glanced at Jak. 

“Sometimes I sleep out here,” said Jak. “Okay, most times. It...helps me. I’ve always found the stars comforting. And the moon….” Jak looked at Cait, and for a moment they stayed silent, trying to read each other’s faces. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, Jak blinked several times and cleared her throat. “So, I figured you could have the mattress and the blanket, and I’ll take the sleeping bag.”

“Oh, well are you sure? I mean, I miss me bed but you don’t have to do that.” Cait said

“No, no I’m okay. I’ve slept in and on worse.”

“Hah. You and me both.” Cait sighed, taking another look at the stars. “We’re safe up here?”

“Are you kidding me? You saw my traps.”

“That’s what those were? Shite, I thought they were just for decoratin’.”

“Hah, hah, very funny.” Jak rolled her eyes, grinning a bit. “Let’s get some sleep, Cait. It’s been a long day.”

“Agreed,” she said, yawning. “Night, Jak.”

“Goodnight, Cait.”

* * * *

“Rise and shine, sleepy head.” 

Jak bolted up from her sleeping bag, cold and clammy, heart racing from the nightmare she just had. She didn't know why it had bothered her so much, but she didn't want to dwell on it. She swallowed the lump in her throat, then smiled at Cait.

“How long you been up?” she asked. 

Cait shrugged.“I dunno, maybe an hour or two. Been fightin’ with meself about when I should wake you up, but...well, here we are.”

Jak laughed, wiping cold sweat from her brow. “You can get me up as soon as you wake up. I try not to sleep too late anyways.” Then, “What's that smell, Cait?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” she said, winking mischievously. She offered a plate of...something. “I killed it earlier. Makes some tasty breakfast, if I say so meself. Better than most of the canned shite. It'll probably kill us in the long run, but….” Her gaze met Jak’s. “Everything here does.”

“What exactly is it, Cait?”

“Oh, right! Silly me, yes it's one of the Wasteland’s many delicacies, known as….” She paused, smirking at Jak. 

Jak raised her eyebrows. “As?”

“Try it first, if I tell you what it is there's no way in hell you'll eat it.”

“You'd be surprised,” Jak mumbled as she reluctantly took a hunk of the charred meat from the plate. It smelled okay enough, and she _ was _ really hungry. She bit into the meat. It tasted a little burnt, and the texture was chewy and almost gritty, but it wasn't the worst she’d had.

“Okay, so now what is it?”

“Mole rat!” she burst out, laughing. “And I'm a shite cook too, so it's burnt to hell and back!”

Jak groaned. Cait moved to sit cross legged across from her. She punched her lightly on the shoulder, which Jak still thought stung considering her skin was still tender and bruised. Plus, Cait could throw one hell of a punch, light or not. 

“I'm just messin’ with ya, anyways. I mean it was mole rat, and I am a shite cook, but it's not that funny. The expression on your face was though, heh. I can tell I'm gonna annoy you sooner or later. But yeah, I would've just opened some cans of stuff but I think you have them in that big trunk of yours, and I didn't wanna screw around with your personal things.”

“I appreciate the consideration, Cait. I'll take the food and water out of there now that there's two of us.” Jak felt funny using the word “us”. “Speaking of, we're gonna have to find more food soon. We can hunt whatever we come across but I still think it's a good idea to stick to looking for cans and boxes.”

“So, things I can't burn to hell and back,” Cait summarized aptly. 

“Precisely,” Jak said, scarfing down more of the rat. “And for what it's worth, it's not _ that _ bad.”

“Pfft, if you say so.”

` The pair fell silent. All that could be heard was the creaking and moaning of the steel bodies that once held together actual structures. That and the occasional gunshot in the echoing distance. Cait sighed.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, hesitating.

“Go for it,” Jak replied.

“Why’d you kill that raider guy like you did? Beatin’ him to death like that, I've never seen anyone do that before in me life...and I've seen, and done, some shite….”

“I, uh…” Jak didn't know if she could say it. Not now. Not yet…. “I don't really wanna talk about it. It's nothing against you, I just….” Jak trailed off, searching the cracks on the concrete roof for the words to say.

“Stop, it's okay,” Cait said softly. “I know exactly how you feel. Don't worry about it.”

Jak nodded, giving a meek half smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

“So uh, what do you feel like doing today?”

Cait picked at one of the patches on her pants. “I dunno really, all I had to do was fight and fight and shoot up and fight some more. I'm not used to bein’ out here in the open world.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jak said, a little uncomfortably. Cait was very forthcoming with her...habit. She wasn’t sure how to react. “I don't do much but scavenge and loot and kill and...well it sounds awful when you put it that way but you know, it's... survival.”

Cait agreed. “I think I know a thing or two about that….”

Jak gave her a wry smile. She was still a little sore from yesterday’s shitshow, but she knew she could handle her own once more. Her thoughts drifted back to everything she had learned. Then she remembered something. “I have to go to Diamond City. I promised Nick Valentine some information.”

“Good to know you stick to your promises,” Cait said. “Plus I haven't been to Diamond City. Heard of it, 'specially this Nick fellow.”

“Then it's settled. We'll go there, I'll talk to Nick, and whatever happens after that happens.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

* * * *

The guards at Diamond City gave Cait dirty looks and Jak couldn't understand why. She knew about her problem, but how could everybody else know, especially since Cait had never been there before?

“I don't know why everybody's eyeballin’ me like that,” she whispered to Jak as they passed through the markets. “But it's really pissin me off.”

“Don't worry about it, they're not gonna do shit to you.”

“It ain't me I'm worried about,” muttered Cait, stalking off toward the noodle stall.

She didn't specify what she meant, though Jak knew exactly what Cait meant.

“Oi! Tin can! How 'bout you set me up with the best you got.”

“Nan-ni shimasu-ka?" 

“A drink, you idiot. I want a drink!”

Jak was slightly amused, despite the scene Cait was making. She kept asking for a drink and Takahashi could only reply with his signature words. People were whispering and pointing at her.

“Cait, he, uh, doesn't sell drinks. Only noodles.”

“Coulda told me that before I made a damn scene,” she said, sulking. “Bloody machines….”

Jak just laughed. “C’mon, you.”

Ellie was sitting at her desk as usual. She looked up at Jak, gave a shifty look to Cait, then turned in her chair to holler back at Nick. 

“Nick, you have a client.”

Jak heard Nick start to babble eagerly as he walked out from his room. Then he saw her.

“Lauren! How'd your little mission go? Figure anything out?” Then, eyeing Cait suspiciously, he added, “I see you got a...friend here.”

Cait glared at the synth, but said nothing.

“Let her talk, Nick, sheesh,” Ellie teased from her desk.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he replied sarcastically. “Anyways, whatcha got for me?”

“Well, I figured out who Apex is,” Jak said.

“Well?” Nick asked.

“He's got all these different factions of raiders wrapped around his finger. He's trying to dominate the Commonwealth and no one can stop him. But nobody knows where he is, what he looks like, no one except the leaders of these factions.”

“So this boogeyman type is doing this all single-handedly?” inquired Nick.

“Not exactly,” Jak said, thinking of the masked raider. “There was one raider the others said was one of Apex’s, as if he has his own faction….” Jak filled up with anger, despite knowing the connections she was making in her head weren't necessarily true.

“Well, that would explain a lot….”

“What do you mean?” asked Jak, brows furrowed.

“Like I told you yesterday, I've been getting wind of these different factions, none of them being particularly important, working together as if someone was ordering them around...well maybe that someone is Apex and his gang.”

“Only two of the groups were particularly unimpressive, the Dishonored and the Reavers, who I heard talk of being wiped out already.” Jak hoped Nick wouldn't question that further. She didn't need him to know she was responsible for that. “The rest all have some sort of specialty, one focuses on stealth, another uses scavenged Institute weapons; there seems to be bigger players than your reports let on.”

“Apex being the biggest,” Nick said, sighing. “You know, a while back I heard about this group that called themselves the New Gods...they wore--”

“Skull masks and red cloth,” Jak finished. She had also heard of them. Her suspicions were confirmed, and her blood ran cold. 

“Yeah, that. How'd you know?” 

“Just uh, rumors.”

“Yeah, same here. Several years back I had a girl lookin’ for em, saying they killed her parents and she was gonna hunt them down.”

Jak swallowed nervously.

“You know what her name was, Lauren?” 

“I uh, no, what was it?” 

“Jak.”

The room was silent. Ellie was seemingly absorbed into her computer. Nick and Jak were staring at each other tensely. Cait cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Nick, I was young, frustrated and scared,” Jak started. “ I wasn't thinking straight. You can't hold that against me.”

“Hold it against you? Who said I was holding anything against you? Quite frankly I admire the nerve you've got showin’ up here again. You've grown a lot and definitely changed but some folks here might still have unfond memories of you.”

“Look, I've got what I wanted and I think you do too. I'll leave now, okay?”

“Jak, I personally don't care whether you come and go here as you please. You aren't the first to do something stupid here and you won't be the last. Just be careful with the locals.”

“Thanks….” Jak walked towards the door. “Let's go, Cait.”

“What the hell was that about?” she muttered as they walked out of the agency. “Somethin’ about bein’ young and scared, what’d you do?”

“It's nothing, Cait.”

“Bullshite,” she chuckled. “I wanna know why you were pleadin’ like you just got caught cheatin’ with the damn maid.”

“Look, I’ve just been through some shit and I did something stupid a while back, that's all.”

“What was it? Who were you talking about hunting down? What happened to your--” 

Jak turned around. They stood there in the alley, Jak crossing her arms. “Cait, I haven't interrogated you about anything. I kindly ask that you do the same for me.”

“I'm not tryin’ to be a bother, Jak, I just wanna make sure we aren't in danger by bein’ here. I don't care much for not knowing what I'm gettin’ meself into.”

“Danger? In Diamond City? Pffft these sheeple wouldn’t…” Jak trailed off as Cait rolled her eyes, sighing. “Look, if I thought we were in danger I wouldn't have dragged you out here. I'll tell you everything soon enough, okay? I just...it's hard for me. And I think I can trust you but I wanna be sure before I dump my life story on you.”

“Ditto, heh. I'm just...tryin’ to look out for us.”

“Thanks. Let's just go home and figure out our next move.”

The pair made their way out of Diamond City. Jak wanted to hurry, knowing how much the people’s mutters and stares irritated Cait. Cait pretended she didn’t notice anything. They were pretty quiet until they got out of the city.

“I don’t know why everybody wanted to keep fuckin’ starin’ at me,” Cait began again, her voice loud and unsteady. “It’s like they know I’m a junkie or somethin’. Is it obvious, Jak? I mean I got me track marks covered and everything, is it still obvious?”

Jak was slightly confused, since she had never even seen Cait’s track marks to begin with. She must have kept them that well hidden. But she looked at Cait, taking in every detail. Her face appeared thin, a little gaunt. Her skin was paler than Jak’s, dotted with freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her jaw was round, somewhat broad, and her cheekbones were gently pronounced. That was her face, gently pronounced, not too sharp but not too soft, framed by her disheveled, deep red hair. A wave of it curled over one of her eyes, green like the few, beautiful trees Jak had seen, while a few messy strands reached across her forehead. Jak’s stomach fluttered as she looked Cait up and down, noting every curve and angle of her lean yet muscular body. She looked pretty alright, kind of healthy actually, for Wasteland standards.

“Well?” Cait asked impatiently.

“Cait, I think you look fine.” Jak replied reassuringly. “I don’t think it’s obvious that you...well, you know.”

“What, shoot up Psycho every chance I get?”

“I...yeah, I guess that.”

There was an awkward length of silence as the two tread quietly, weaving their way down rubble-strewn streets and between crumbling buildings. Occasionally they had to climb over a pile of debris, and it was at these moments where one girl would mutter a “Here” to the other as they helped each other up the wreckage. But other than that, silence.

Jak was trying to think of something to say, something comforting, but then she heard something growl. Immediately the two of them whipped around, facing the threat behind them.

“Shite,” Cait muttered. 

Jak silently agreed. Staring back at them were three wild dogs, a very vicious looking trio. Their lips curled back, exposing filthy fangs dripping with strings of saliva. Slowly Jak grabbed for her pistol, but the dogs reacted sooner, barreling towards them. Jak yanked the gun out and started firing, albeit rather recklessly. At this moment she didn’t care. One bite from the damn mongrels would almost certainly end in an infection that she just didn’t have the means of treating. A few bullets made their way into one of the dogs’ bodies, punctuated by a shrill yelp. Cait was blasting away with her shotgun, mirroring Jak’s recklessness. One of the dogs tried to flank Cait, and she aimed another shot at it. This one hit rather well, and the dog gave a dying whimper as its flesh tore open with the blast. Another of the dogs launched itself at Jak. She kicked it, knocking the creature to the ground. She aimed her pistol towards the dog’s head, firing once, twice, three times. The last beast tucked its tail between its legs, fleeing. The girls were out of breath, doubled over and panting. Something about the prospect of being mangled by a wild Wasteland mutt wore the hell out of Jak, more so than the possibility of being shot to death. 

“Well, I didn’t see that coming,” Jak said. Cait just gave a weak chuckle, wiping the sweat from her brow. 

“No, I’d agree with ya on that one.” Cait said. Jak grinned, looking up at her.

“Y’know, I am _ really _ glad to have you on my side, Cait. I could get used to this.”

“You mean that?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Once you know me, you’ll take that back,” Cait muttered under her breath, frowning. 

“It doesn’t matter what I do and don’t know, okay? I’m just saying, it’s been nice having you around today.”

They kept walking, quiet once more, and there were no signs of dogs or any other threat. Jak liked this area for that. It wasn’t constantly a battleground. If you kept your head down and your ears open, there was really nothing else to worry about. She looked at Cait, who was glumly trudging on. Jak knew today upset her. Jak never paid much attention to anybody else out here, especially not enough to notice if one was a chem addict or not. She could assume sometimes but she never knew right away. She thought Cait looked fine, she knew she wasn’t but she really didn’t know how everybody else could tell. Then she remembered Cait telling her she wasn’t used to being out here.

“Cait, how often did you get out of the Combat Zone?” Jak asked, still walking.

“Not hardly for anythin’,” she said, looking puzzled at the question. “Like I said, I didn’t do anything but fight all day, and if I had a break I was jabbin’ needles in my skin. And Tommy never trusted me by meself.” 

Jak nodded, brows furrowed. So that meant Cait wasn’t at all used to being around actual people. Just that asshole Tommy and whatever scum came to see her fight. Which would explain why she reacted so badly today. Jak knew what being gawked at felt like, but she got used to it. Cait wasn’t, which made perfect sense. 

“Why do you ask?” Cait inquired. 

Jak shrugged. “Just curious, that’s all.”

“Ah.” Then, “What did you say you do all day?” 

“Oh you know, scavenge for food and water so I don’t die, take out the stray mutant or raider, raid Combat Zones and steal their prized fighter.” Cait laughed. It felt good to Jak to hear her laugh again. 

“Sounds like you know how to live it up out here.”

“Oh, you know it, man. Livin’ the Wasteland dream.”

“Heh, it could always be worse.” 

Jak looked over at Cait and grinned.

“You got that right.”

The two girls walked together in a third silence, although this one lacked the tension the previous two had. It remained that way until they were back at Jak’s place. They climbed to the top of the stairway, passing by multiple doors, some of which lay off their hinges or were smashed in through the door frames. Others remained simply unscathed. 

“What’re all these other doors for?” Cait asked Jak, her voice echoing off the dirty walls. 

“Oh, well, I think this used to be an...apartment complex, I think they’re called, people used to live here before everything went to shit. I’ve already actually checked most of these rooms. If there was anything useful here I’ve either taken it already or missed something.” 

“Huh,” Cait simply acknowledged. They made their way up to Jak’s room. Cait paced around the room thoughtfully while Jak checked her trunk for supplies. “You know what you need, Jak?” 

“What’s that?”

“A damn chair,” she giggled. “Sittin’ on that mattress of yours sucks.” 

“We’ll look later in some of the rooms downstairs,” Jak laughed. “Right now, we oughta focus on finding more food and water. Especially water.”

“Yeah, good point. Any ideas where to look?”

“Well, honestly I considered buying some, I have roughly a hundred caps. But I don’t think heading back to Diamond City is a good idea.”

“No, it’s really not,” Cait agreed.

“Yeah, and I don’t really know any other towns. I’ve bumped into a caravan here and there but….”

“I’ve heard of a place called Goodneighbor. Supposed to be where all the Diamond City rejects go.”

“Do you know exactly where it is?”

“Pfft, no. I think it’s around the Zone but I don’t know, I’m goin’ off what I heard from drunk raiders.” 

Jak frowned. The name sounded familiar but she certainly didn’t know where to find it, or who to ask that _ wasn’t _ in Diamond City. “I suppose we could spend a day looking for it, maybe tomorrow. We could head to the Combat Zone and look from there.” She said, trying to figure things out.

“Yeah,” Cait said. “I suppose you’re right. But what’re we gonna do for the rest of today?” 

Jak hadn’t thought of it. They still had time for scavenging, but Jak frankly didn’t know where to look. She didn’t feel like there was enough time to venture out of her usual area and come back before dark. She’d been caught in the night multiple times, and it certainly wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat. Admittedly, she was afraid of the dark, and trying to find her way home under a black sky was not her idea of fun. 

Fun, Jak silently laughed at the idea. She didn’t find anything in the Wasteland fun, she never really had. She didn’t think anyone in their right mind would, but there were some nutjobs out here so she never knew. She hated feeling so pessimistic and devoid of emotions, all of them except hatred and rage. That’s what it felt like sometimes, like she was just pain and anger inside a human shell. That’s why she was liking having Cait around. It hadn’t even been two days yet and Cait made Jak feel a little more like a human being and a little less like a--

“Jak? Anybody home?” Cait’s words snapped Jak out of her thoughts. She gave Cait an awkward smile. “You okay there?”

“Yeah,” Jak said, nodding perhaps a little too much. “Yeah, just fine. Um, rest of today, I don’t really know.”

“Well, if we got nothin’ else to do, I say we spiffy your place up a bit, aim for somethin’ a little less, ah, minimalist, and a little more comfy.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“Well there’s like five floors beneath us lined with places where people lived once. Don’t ya think there’d be furniture there?”

“I do, and there is. I just don’t really attach to material things.”

“Me neither,” Cait said with a devilish smirk and light in her eyes. “But your room here needs a little material fixation. C’mon, if the two of us are gonna stay here for awhile, can’t we at least make it comfy? And besides, you just said we’d find a chair later. I’m thinkin’ later is now.” 

Jak sighed. There was something about Cait’s persistence and the mischievous tone her voice took that she just couldn’t say no to.

“Alright, fine,” Jak said, rubbing her face and yawning. “Maybe I can at least find a better bed or something.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You know,” Jak started as they rummaged through one of the decrepit apartments. “We should stay as close to the top floor as possible. Whatever you find you’re gonna have to carry up yourself.”

“Aww, what?” Cait whined sarcastically. “Not even a wee bit of help?”

“We’ll see,” Jak said, shaking her head despite the smile she had on her face. 

Cait grinned and turned around to inspect a worn armchair. It was made of a faded red fabric, framed by an elegant wooden trim. Bits of yellowed stuffing poked through the red material. It obviously used to be a really nice chair. Cait glanced over, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

“It’ll be a bitch to carry,” she said. “But I’m sure me arse would really appreciate the investment. Maybe even yours too.”

“Cait, how about we check out all the rooms on this floor and then come back to everything we wanted?”

“Well duh, I’m not that fried, Jak. I still got some sense to me.”

“Just checkin’,” Jak said, her mouth curving playfully into her cheek.

“‘Course you are,” Cait’s voice seemed to naturally drip sarcasm when she wasn’t furious or frightened. She eyed the armchair once more before continuing her search with Jak.

The next apartment held nothing particularly interesting to Jak, as did the next, and the next, until _ finally _ something caught her eye. The last room down the dusty hallway appeared fruitless upon first glance, but sitting upon chunks of a dilapidated bed frame was a mattress, very similar to the one she already had in that it was an off-colored white, aged and stained with a manner of dirt and grime, except it was _ much, _ much bigger. Probably a king size, if she wasn’t mistaken. Jak already fit on her current mattress fairly well but something about a larger one was very enticing. Cait came up beside her and gave a soft whistle of admiration.

“Now _ that’s _ a bed. Bigger than anything I’ve ever had.”

“You and me both,” Jak sighed. “You think it’s worth dragging up the stairs?” 

Cait stared at it thoughtfully.“I suppose it would depend on who got to sleep on it,” she said. 

Jak made an amused sound. “I don’t know, you could always sleep in that chair of yours.”

“Hey, I want the chair so I don’t have to sit on your dusty floor all day.” 

Jak laughed a little this time. “Who would’ve thought the world would end and we’d be here hunting for furniture,” she exhaled almost bitterly.

“That’s us, ‘Jak and Cait: Wasteland Furniture Hunters,’” Cait said in a mockingly grand manner. 

Jak couldn’t venture too deeply into her negative feelings before Cait’s sarcasm fished her back out. She really enjoyed that. 

“That’s one way to envision it, isn’t it?” 

“Why, of course!” Cait said, beaming.

Jak wondered how hard Cait had to try to seem so happy. She seemed so good at pretending, if she was even pretending at all. Jak envied that, only she’d never had any reason to pretend. Any emotion she might have felt was raw, untouched by anything else. There was no need to hide anything.

“You just gonna stand there or are we gonna start movin’ this damn thing?” 

Jak realized Cait was waiting, half a smile on her face. She nodded and moved to help her bring the mattress out to the hallway. They then retrieved the armchair from down the hall and began taking the two objects up to their room. It was a little difficult, and they were both glistening with sweat after they got situated. It was uncomfortably warm in the building, despite the broken windows and occasional holes in the walls that allowed a scarce breeze to blow in. 

The girls sat on their new furniture, Jak perched on the edge of her bed and Cait slouched exhaustedly in her chair. The floor was bathed in a dull orange glow, showing the shadowed outlines of the windows. Jak could see dust swirling in the light. An idea struck her.

“Hey, you wanna go watch the sun set?” 

Cait looked up at Jak, her eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I think that could be real nice.”

“Well, let’s go.” 

The two went to the roof, standing against the irradiated sky painted with thin wisps of clouds that reached desperately across the warm plane. The sun crept down below the horizon, resembling what Jak imagined the explosion of a bomb to look like, the ones she only heard stories about. An explosion, somehow frozen in time. It was beautiful, but hauntingly so when imagined the way she did. Beneath her, the devastated expanse of ancient city was growing darker and darker. Across the other side of the building was Diamond City, shining like always. A few other light sources dotted the area around her, most just distant blurs. She turned to Cait, who was watching, transfixed, as the sun set, bringing about the hostile, dangerous night with it. The last few strands of light glinted in her eyes, sparking the emeralds as if a fire burned inside them.

“I haven’t had a good view of one these in while,” she murmured as Jak came to her side. “It’s not like you could see any of this from the Zone. And before that….” 

“It’ll be better now, Cait. Harder, maybe, but somehow better still.” 

“I know, I know. I just...I don’t know what I’m doing. What _ we’re _doing. Say we go hit up Goodneighbor tomorrow. Buy what we need, make it back alive. Then what?”

“Well, we’ll figure it out, you know? I’m not too sure either.”

“See that’s the thing, me mind goes crazy when I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. At the Zone, I always had somethin’ to do, I could anticipate the same thing everyday. Out here, I feel paranoid, and lost, and...so much more vulnerable.” She turned away and walked to the other side of the roof, where it was much darker. She stared up at the stars that had been creeping into focus throughout the deep purples and greys now covering the sky. The moon stared back at her, coldly, but lovingly all the same. The light glistened off a tear that rolled down her cheek. Just as soon as it came, she wiped it away as Jak approached her again. 

“I know we just met and I don’t have much of a right to attach meself to you but I’m afraid you’ll leave me out here alone, Jak. I haven’t had to make it on me own for awhile now. I’m not sure I can do it again, not yet. I--”

“Cait, I promise you I’m not gonna ditch you. I think we both have our fair share of shit to handle. We can work it out together, you and me. We’ll get there. We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow, and we’ll take it from there. Deal?” She finished, putting forward her hand. 

Cait chewed her lip, then grasped Jak’s hand, bowing her head in acknowledgement. Their eyes met, and for a second Jak felt hesitant to withdraw. Cait searched Jak’s face, trying to figure her out, but Jak slowly drew her hand back, with a quick smile. Cait nodded to herself and yawned dramatically. 

“Enough of me sob story, I’d say it’s bedtime.” 

Jak reflexively yawned as well. “Mhm. But I get the big bed first, it’s my find after all.”

“What, sharing? Oi, that’s terrible!”

“Must you end every conversation of ours with a sarcastic one-liner?” 

Cait gasped mockingly. “How dare you! Also, yes!” 

The two laughed quietly, walking back to their room. They settled into their beds, Cait with the sleeping bag atop the smaller mattress, and Jak with her matted blanket and large mattress.

“Goodnight, Jak” muttered Cait. 

“Goodnight, Cait,” Jak responded tiredly. She smiled to herself. Things would get better for Cait. She would make sure of it.

* * *

Jak was walking through the destruction she had grown used to. Broken lamp posts, cracked chunks of concrete, ruined steel beams, and stray mechanical parts were strewn around her, almost creating a wall on either side of the road. She felt a sinking feeling of dread, as the road ahead of her seemed neverending, the horizon never appearing any closer. Panic bubbled up inside her, rising to her throat, until she felt choked. She was gasping for breath, now running, trying to find the end of the road until a cage appeared in front of her, almost out of nowhere. Inside was a curiously red bird, like nothing Jak had ever seen.

But she had seen it. It was the same bird from her last nightmare. It was smaller and rounder than the harrowing, black-feathered things she was used to seeing. As she approached it the bird looked at her and chirped inquisitively, turning its head to the side. It stared for a moment, until it made an excited trilling sound and started hopping up and down in the cage. Jak smiled, amused by this bird. She liked it, feeling enthralled by its alien yet ordinary appearance. She felt like cute was an apt word for the creature. 

Sticking her fingers through the cage, she reached for the bird, and it nuzzled up to her finger. She searched the cage for a lock, a latch, some way to open it, until she noticed a key in a hole _ behind _the bars. Confused, she reached to turn it, just barely touching it with her fingers before the small bird bit her, harder than Jak would’ve expected from such a tiny thing. She drew back with a startled gasp, frowning at the bird and the bead of blood that formed on the side of her finger. The bird started to make more chirping noises, this time sounding more agitated as it began to flap its wings and throw itself against the iron cage, increasingly harder and harder. The cage didn’t budge, but the bird was very clearly hurting itself. Feathers were falling, and the thing screeched in pain, louder and louder with each hit against the metal. Jak felt overwhelmed, starting to sob, helplessly watching this poor creature kill itself. Not fully aware of what she was doing, she cried out “Stop hurting yourself, little bird!” amidst her sobs. The bird froze, no longer throwing itself against the cage, no longer making the terrible noises Jak heard. But it slowly turned its battered head to her, its beady eyes staring at her. Jak noticed the color they were, how familiar it was.

“Don’t call me that…,” the bird mumbled in a just as familiar voice. Jak felt strange. Something wasn’t right. Then the bird spoke again. “I told you not to call me that.” It was louder this time, a little angry even. Jak didn’t understand what was happening. What had she done wrong? The bird spoke up once more, this time yelling harshly at Jak. “You ain’t callin’ me that anymore, you son of a bitch!” 

Jak’s eyes flew open. Her heart was racing, and her cheek was damp. She sat up, slowly, rubbing her eyes tiredly. It seemed like she was crying in her sleep, something she’d not done in a long time. She was terribly confused and felt like she had been punched in the gut. Whatever the hell it meant, she wasn’t particularly keen on it.

It was still dark now, as Jak sat quietly in bed, though she could just make out the faintest, dimmest tinges of sunlight on the horizon. Her gaze wandered over to Cait’s sleeping figure, curled up tightly on top of the sleeping bag she used to cover the filthy mattress. It almost looked as if she formed a shell with her limbs huddled closely towards herself. Jak wondered if she too was dreaming right now. Jak wanted badly to tell her about her own but she also felt like it would be best to keep it unsaid. She didn’t understand it at all but she was able to make enough of a connection to where it would feel odd talking about it to her. Resigned to pondering the images silently, she laid back down and eventually drifted back to sleep, thankfully without anymore troubling dreams.

She didn’t see Cait open one tentative eye, or sit up carefully, or slip the bracers from her arms. She didn’t see the needle flash in the dark, or hear the quivering sigh of relief, or watch as the redhead threw the syringe as far as she possibly could from the balcony. She didn’t hear the girl’s aggravated panting, the silent aggression coursing through her blood that she had learned to push through, because it only lasted for a little while before the crash took her down, way down. 

* * * *

“Not to ruin your beauty sleep, but the sun’s up and neither of us know _ exactly _where Goodneighbor is. Sooo we oughta get goin’, I think.” 

Jak opened her eyes, squinting groggily at Cait crouched by her side. Cait gave a short smile. Jak smiled back, jamming a fist into her eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. 

“Can we at least eat first?” she asked.

“Nope,” Cait replied teasingly. “Gotta work for ya meal, I’m afraid.” 

With an exaggerated groan, Jak got up from her bed, stretching. Cait handed her a can of fruit, grinning. 

“Good job! You really did it.”

“Smart-ass,” Jak said, just loud enough for Cait to hear. She then carved the can open with her knife. The peaches inside smelled like sweet metal. It wasn’t the most appetizing but damn she was hungry.

“Hey, wanna split this?” she asked Cait. “We gotta ration and all, so?”

“Again with the sharing,” Cait said sarcastically. “But yes, I too would like to eat.” 

“Then here, I only have one fork so you can either eat with your hands like a savage or use the fork like a proper civilized person.”

“You do realize the irony in that, right?” Cait said, taking the offered fork.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jak said, feigning ignorance. 

The two laughed, taking turns eating mouthfuls of the sticky orange peaches. Jak liked them the most out of all the luxurious Wasteland treats she’d had. She almost regretted eating them sooner rather than later, but she enjoyed them regardless. They ate rather quietly, not having much to talk about at this hour since both girls were still in the process of waking up. Only when they were done eating did they converse again.

“So, about Goodneighbor,” Cait started. “I think we should probably head back to the Combat Zone and then search for the place from there. All I know is that the place is close to there.” 

Jak nodded, thinking. She was fairly certain her and Cait would make their way back towards that area within an hour, assuming nothing particularly distracting crossed their path. “Sounds good to me. Do you think I should bring my rifle?”

“Hmm, no, probably not. We want to avoid any action, but still be prepared, I imagine. That shotgun of yours could be useful, especially if we run into anymore of those damn dogs.” 

Jak shuddered at the thought. She hated the things. “Good point, yeah.” 

She strapped her pistol around her waist and her shotgun to her pack, checking the ammo for both. She was okay for now, but she knew she was going to have to be careful with how she spent it. Hopefully she’d find more at Goodneighbor. Packing said ammo, as well as a couple stimpaks and her caps stash, she slung the backpack around her shoulders. 

“Are we ready to head out?” she asked Cait, turning around. 

Cait was in the process of reloading her own shotgun. “Yep,” she said, pumping the shotgun with a smirk. “Let’s not die today, yeah?”

* * * *

Halfway to the Combat Zone, Jak pulled Cait aside once the Trinity Tower loomed over them from several miles away, out of the super mutants’ vision.

“We should take another path,” she explained. “Those damn things are slow but I don’t want to take any chances.” 

Cait nodded, taking in their surroundings. 

“I think we can just head down there,” she said, gesturing past an abandoned church on their left. “It should get us around those big fuckers.” 

Jak made a noise of agreement. They went in that direction, walking on the weathered sidewalk that bordered a few sections of dirt. 

Scraggly and dry grass infested these sections, along with several dead trees in planters. A damaged stone statue stood to the side depicting what Jak imagined was a fancily dressed man lounging in a chair, one arm propped up, the other on an open book. Half of the man’s face had broken off, and the stone had many cracks and holes, but it still held an air of power, reverence. 

“Who do you think he was?” Cait asked Jak.

Jak shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she said. “He must’ve been important though.”

“Or people thought he was,” Cait concurred.

“Maybe he was one of those founding father guys, you ever heard of them?”

“The guys that supposedly formed the country?”

“Yeah, them.”

“It’s a good possibility,” Jak said.

“Yeah, but I think they were bad at their job,” Cait mused. “Whatever they formed wasn’t strong enough to prevent this shite from happenin’.” 

Jak chuckled, wondering if the practical downfall of humankind was ever anticipated back then. “Maybe they didn’t know something like this was even _ possible _. Maybe the means to do all this,” Jak gestured around them, “didn’t exist yet.” 

Cait smiled, albeit rather sadly. “That’s a good point, yeah. And it probably wasn’t just us.” She paused, still staring at the statue. “Wonder how long it took to create the bombs. How long until people decided they hated each other so much they wanted to wipe ‘em all out, and how long until they figured out a way to do just that.” 

A chill went through Jak’s body. She knew what that felt like. She knew how broken you had to be to tap into that kind of emotion. She could only imagine how fucked up a whole country, no, world, had to be in order for something like this to happen. “At least we’re still standing, you know?” 

Cait looked at her for a moment, brows furrowed. Then she slowly started nodding. “I suppose that’s right, yeah. Sometimes I forget you’re supposed to stay alive. I mean what’s the point of surviving for the sake of survival?”

“Well, you just...have to figure out a purpose,” Jak said. “A reason to stick around in this shit.” She felt a sudden pang of guilt, knowing hate was, until recently, the only thing keeping her going. She was hardly any different, in that case, from the people that made the world the way it was now. But that was all she had, for so long, and despite having Cait around now, Jak still couldn’t let go of that hate that coursed through her veins.

“I suppose you’re right,” said Cait, looking at Jak now. “I just hope I find that purpose soon.” 

Jak silently agreed to herself.

Cait smiled before turning away. “We should keep movin’.” 

Jak was feeling the strange fluttering again, but she ignored it.

They passed between the ruined church, rough looking vines creeping between the gaps of the brick structure, and an old library. Almost all of the windows Jak could see were shattered. Tattered papers littered the ground around it. A few trash cans were burning, one over on each side of the doors and another centered toward the steps that led to the place.

“Betcha someone’s already occupyin’ that place,” Cait said as they continued, taking note of the flaming barrels. “I’d say we steer clear of there too.” 

Jak told her she agreed.

They kept going, away from the plaza area and around the corner. They passed several of the strange looking vehicles called cars, another thing Jak had heard stories of. It seemed none of them worked anymore, but she knew people used to use them to get around places quicker. Now all that remained of them were rusted frames and metal bodies.

Soon they came across a building, some sort of comic store. Jak had actually read one of those small books once, one about some kind of barbarian. The memory of the Bloodsworn girl crossed her mind again. She shivered.

Up ahead was another vehicle, big and green, nothing Jak had seen before. As she approached it, she saw something scrawled on it.

“What’s that say?” she asked Cait, who was ahead of her. 

“That’s odd,” Cait said.

“What is it?”

“It says something about a swan.

“A swan? Like those big white birds from before the war?”

“I guess so, I don’t know of any other swans.” 

Jak looked at her, confused, then the message, which definitely said something about a swan.

Cait shrugged, then turned to look ahead. “You know, I think I’ve been around here before.”

Jak followed her gaze. Ahead of them was a small park full of the pale browns and dull greens of dying trees and grass. Worn concrete paths snaked through, and a filthy pond lay uncomfortably still towards the left side of the place. A broken half of a boat shaped like a swan broke the surface. Towards the other side was a wooden shack, a ruined fountain, and a dirty white pavilion of some sort. 

“Cait,” Jak started, turning to Cait. “Something about this place gives me a bad feeling.”

“Me too, something’s got me skin crawling,” she said, rubbing one of her arms. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Jak asked, gesturing around them. “Do you recall what direction the place was?” 

Cait sighed, chewing her lip. “No, honestly. I was probably wasted anyways. That certainly couldn’t have helped anything. I do know the Combat Zone is over there,” she said, pointing towards the direction, “so it’s probably not down that way.” 

Jak looked up towards the sky, squinting against the harsh sun. “Well,” she started, looking back at Cait. “It’s only about midday, so we have time to wander for a bit. We’ll find the place eventually, we just have to stick together.” 

Cait made an exaggerated chuckle.

“As if there was any other option,” she said with a smirk. “no way in hell are we splittin’ up out here. Come on, I’m not _ that _ dumb.” 

Jak rolled her eyes, smiling. “Let’s go, then.”

“Alright, lemme see.” Cait strode a little ways up the road, until she stopped and turned to her right. “Yeah, see right down there’s the Zone. So we don’t need to go that way.” 

Jak noticed a quiver in Cait’s voice, slight enough to be a simple accident, but she had to wonder if it made Cait nervous to be so close to the Zone. She followed her, staring past her shoulders. She could distantly see the wooden fence raiders had put towards the opposite side of the narrow street. 

Cait turned, eyeing the fork in the road ahead of them. “Looks like these are our only other options.” 

Jak strained her eyes to examine either road, but she couldn’t discern any major details. Both paths looked fairly obscured by the general rubble and debris that littered the city streets, scraps of metal and chunks of bricks and the like. However, the path ahead was narrower, running between the crowded buildings and beneath a large concrete bridge that Jak guessed was holding more roads. The path to her left was bordered by the unsettling park and pond, but she couldn’t tell what lie ahead further than that. 

“What do you think, go for the claustrophobia or the creepy park?” she asked, turning to Cait.

“Hmmm, not sure. There really is something about that pond that makes me uncomfortable and I can’t place why. It’s like I’ve heard people talk about it before but I can’t remember anything they said….” She frowned at Jak, who returned an apologetic shrug. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jak said, although she didn’t get a good feeling about the place either. “But if you want we could go there last. I just don’t like being down such narrow roads. I start to feel like a cornered animal, you know?” 

Cait nodded understandingly. “We’ll be quick about it, I’m sure it can’t go too far.” 

Jak sighed. “Looks like either choice is gonna be less than desirable, let’s just get it over with and hope we find this damn place.” 

The two wandered through the claustrophobic passage, winding between piles of wreckage and refuse. They passed under the giant bridge, which seemed to softly creak, almost breathe with the wind, like some sort of aching sentinel. They were surrounded by collapsed signs, beams and supports for buildings, street poles and cars half buried in rubble. The more crowded the road became, the more Jak started to feel anxious. It was as if they were trying to escape a labyrinth constructed of steel and stone and dirt. Each turn into a newer, increasingly obstructed street disoriented Jak more and more. She didn’t realize just how heavily she was breathing until she felt something grasp her arm. She jumped, startled by the sudden and unfamiliar contact. She whipped to her side, hand reaching for her pistol, until she saw Cait taking a step back from her.

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy, Jak,” she said, making a calming gesture. “You feelin’ alright?” 

Jak was bent over, hands on her knees, trying to gather herself, steady her breath. “Sorry, sorry, I just...are we lost?” 

Cait stared, then glanced around, checking all directions. “You want the honest answer?” 

Jak raised her eyebrows expectantly. 

“Yeah, we’re lost,” Cait told her. “Not terribly, but I’m not entirely sure where we’re at. Every bloody thing looks the same.”

Jak put her face in her hands, running them through her hair. A familiar knot formed in her stomach, then came the laughter. “That’s fine, that’s just fine…,” she muttered under her breath. She hated being lost. She never got used to it, despite growing up in the Commonwealth, spending most of that time aimlessly wandering the unknown, unkind land.

“Look, we’ll just head back towards that huge bridge! And take the other path! If nothing else we’ll find a trader or someone at Diamond City. That’s last resort though.” 

Jak glanced up at Cait, still trying to catch her breath. “I don’t know, I think I’d take the City over getting lost out here all day.” Then, “I appreciate the positive outlook though, Cait.” She finished with a weak smile. 

Cait smiled back, rather meekly. “‘Least I can do is try, y’know?” she said.

“I do, actually, yeah.” 

Cait nodded, smile fading. She and Jak stared at each other for a second, as if one was trying to glimpse into the other one’s mind. Jak broke away first, scanning for the aforementioned bridge.

“There it is,” she said, pointing with one hand and wiping her brow with the other. Cait came up beside her with a chuckle.

“Didn’t think it’d take us long to find it, seein’ as it’s so, you know, big,” she said with a wink. Jak shook her head, smiling. She couldn’t tell if Cait was making an innuendo or a general and very sarcastic observation.

“Let’s just get out of whatever this is,” Jak said, motioning around her.

“Ditto,” Cait said, nodding with much more enthusiasm than her voice let on.

Eventually the two found their way back to the strange pond, somehow. Jak felt much calmer by now, as calm as you could get out here. They passed by the pond, deliberately at a quickened pace. Not only did they want away from that terrible air of tension, but they also grew more anxious to find this Goodneighbor. Jak wanted to get there before dusk. Glancing up at the sky, she could tell it was much more overcast than usual. It looked like it would rain soon. It didn’t rain often, and it was generally miserable when it did, but for whatever reason Jak welcomed its coming this time. Other than that, there still appeared to be enough daylight for them to at least make it to Goodneighbor. That was the idea, anyways. It was not her intention to be out in the dark, especially around here. It was never _ not _her intention. The Wasteland oftentimes harbored more danger at night than day. 

However, Jak was sensing danger now, as she and Cait walked down the road. She stuck her arm out, motioning for Cait to be quiet.

“What is it?” she murmured wearily. She stared at Jak, reading her expression. 

Jak was looking back at her, straining her ears to tell what she was hearing. She heard a growl, dry and rasping but somehow wet and thick at the same time. She had heard this sound before. 

“What is it?” Cait repeated, more wearily in response to Jak’s lack of a reaction.

Jak simply gestured for her to follow as she crouched low to the ground and slunk forward along the edge of the nearest building. Cait followed with a short sigh, clearly wishing Jak would speak so as to alleviate some of the tension. Jak continued forward, silently, looking out for something to confirm her suspicions. It didn’t take long for that to happen.

Ahead were several greenish-yellow humanoid figures, their skin withered and bloated, parts of the flesh puffing out grotesquely while other parts stretched tightly against the bone. The figures were shuffling and shambling, making more of the awful growls Jak heard. One of them was bent on the ground, frantically tearing at what was most likely a corpse. Beyond them was a patch of grass with cracked upright stones scattered throughout. A long, thick vehicle, a bus, was rusting away. She could see another of the things inside of it. Jak knew this was a cemetery, and these stumbling husks were feral ghouls. She knew just how feral they were, prone to violently rush anything that came to close. Jak knew you couldn’t make a single sound, for even the slightest noise attracted their attention. And once that happened, you were as good as dead.

“Oh, shite,” Cait muttered beside her. 

Jak swiftly put her hand on Cait’s mouth. Cait stared at her, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting that move. Jak internally smiled at the look on Cait’s face before removing her hand. Now definitely wasn’t the time to laugh. Slowly they both pulled back behind the edge of the building.

“What’re we gonna do, Jak?” Cait whispered, a perturbed look on her face. “I don’t even know if me gun has enough bullets for these fuckers. They’re fast!”. 

Jak was gnawing on her bottom lip. She had always snuck past ghouls, and if she knew she was going to have to take them out she took high ground, or a building, or something. She wasn’t used to so many being awake in one spot, in broad daylight even. The whole situation was unfavorable. “I...suppose we should find a way around. We can’t risk anything and I didn’t exactly have being ripped apart by ferals on my to-do list today.” 

“Me neither….”

“Alright, let’s just go back and--”

A wet, rasping scream tore through the air as one of the ferals had caught sight of Jak and Cait. Instantly, all of them snapped their heads in their direction. A sliver of a moment later, they all began a lurching run towards them, moving in a shambling pack.

“Run!” Jak yelled, though she knew it didn’t need said. It was pretty clear they needed to get the hell away from the ferals. The girls ran, hurtling down the fractured asphalt, towards the foreboding pond. One of the ghouls threw itself at Cait, landing just behind her as it fell on its face.

“Fuckin’ hell!” she shouted, as another tripped over the first. Their swollen yellow eyes stared lifelessly, hungrily, their mouths twisted into ravenous snarls as they continued their pursuit. Jak took her shotgun and fired as another ghoul hurled itself forward. The blast knocked it backwards, mid-air, seemingly incapacitated as it struggled to get up from the ground. Beside her, Cait was shooting too. 

“Cait, maybe we can lure them into that pond!”

“We can certainly try!”

They ran past several corpses as they rushed through the abandoned park. Behind them remained the ghouls, stumbling and screeching. As Jak was running, she felt a sudden stab of pain as something connected with her leg. She cried out, her vision blurring. She stumbled before Cait brought her back up by the arm.

“C’mon, it’s right there!” She declared, trying to keep Jak moving.

Jak didn’t know if the idea would work or not. Maybe it would at least hinder the monsters’ pace, long enough to open a firing window. She kept running, gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg. It felt like her skin had been ripped open and was continuing to tear every time a muscle was stretched. 

The edge of the pond was right in front of her. This had to work. She wasn’t going out like this, torn apart and eaten alive by some murderous, mutated freaks. 

Then, the water came alive.


	6. Chapter 6

Murky water shot towards the sky in great, splashing torrents as something seemingly _ stood _from the pond. A hulking, green shape broke the surface, the ruined swan boat attached to it. A thunderous, horrifying roar bellowed from it, a crude pronunciation of the word “Swan.” The noise shook Jak to the core, as she stared up at the looming figure, a grotesque reincarnation of a super mutant. It donned the boat piece as a shoulder guard, gripping the other half of it in one hand while the other held a large anchor. Jak didn’t know where such a creature found an anchor but now wasn’t the time for petty questions. The ferals were still behind her, though they too seemed shaken by this sudden monstrosity. 

“What the fuck is that?!” Cait screamed as she and Jak surveyed their surroundings, noting how utterly fucked they seemed. 

“I don’t know but we have to keep running!”

They darted away from both the feral pack and the giant monstrosity. It, however, did not seem to notice, as it was now fixated on the ghouls. The ferals snarled and growled at the thing as it raised the anchor and slammed it down, crushing two of the ferals. Another two threw themselves at the thing, fleshy missiles crumpling to the ground as they met solid muscle. The thing stomped down on them with a sickening crunch. Soon enough, all of the ghouls lay dead around the giant creature. Jak spared a glance behind her shoulders just as she saw it pick up a chunk of loose concrete, preparing to throw it in her direction. She tackled Cait to the side of the road as the concrete crashed where they had been just a moment ago. Both girls fell hard to the ground, Jak on top of Cait.

“Uh,” Cait started with a grimace. “Thanks?”

“No time, we have to go!” Jak rushed, ignoring the awkward position they were in. She wasn’t about to be crushed by whatever that thing hurled at them next.

Pretending their bodies didn’t ache and throb all over, they continued to run, not daring to look back any further.

Rain fell like bullets from the sky, thick icy drops that stung as they collided with Jak’s broken and bruised body. What didn’t hit her skin hit her armor, thudding and pinging on the various metal and leather pieces she wore. Her hair clung heavily to her face. By the look of it, Cait was in a similar position. Their clothes were soaked, sleek and dripping with the cold water. Cait’s teeth were chattering as she embraced herself, attempting to keep warm. The smell of wet pavement flooded Jak’s nose as the two girls trudged along beneath the clouded, sunless sky. 

“I didn’t really think it would take us this long to find this bloody town,” Cait mumbled bleakly. 

“I didn’t expect ghouls and pond monsters either but here we are,” Jak responded irritably. 

Cait made a sound of indignation. 

Jak sighed. She knew it wasn’t right to treat Cait unfairly because she was frustrated with things that weren’t really anyone’s fault. “Sorry, this is just not at all what I planned to do all day.”

“You and me both.”

Jak looked at Cait’s pale, shivering face. Even in this miserable environment, framed by the dark and somber sky, Jak thought Cait looked...well, beautiful. That’s what it was. 

Cait looked over, locking eyes. “Something wrong?”

Jak shook her head, perhaps rather suddenly. “No, nothing’s wrong. I was just...thinking.”

“‘Bout what?”

“Just how shitty this is.”

“Yeah, I know.” Cait chuckled, looking at the slick, glistening road. “I wonder if we should just go back. Try again tomorrow or somethin’.”

“After everything we’ve put up with so far? I don’t think so.” 

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I just--” Cait stopped abruptly, pointing ahead. “Look!”

Jak squinted, trying to see through the rain what Cait was pointing at. Distantly, she could make out a sign with a painted arrow pointing off to the side. Scrawled above the arrow was the word “Goodneighbor.”

“I think we’re close!” Cait burst out, her face lighting up. She jogged forward, boots splashing through puddles gathering on the uneven, potholed asphalt. 

Jak smiled after her, enjoying the sudden burst of optimism.

Sure enough, one sign led to another, past heaps of garbage and scrap. Only when they reached the gate did Jak realize the heaps were part of a wall that seemed to surround what lie beyond. The very last sign to be read hung above a door. A crooked,white neon arrow pointed to it, while similar neon lettering proclaimed the place to be Goodneighbor. 

“We made it, Cait.”

* * * *

Upon entering Goodneighbor, Jak’s first thought was how little of a difference a fence and a door made. All of the buildings, all of the pavement, didn’t look much different from outside. In fact the only things telling her this was indeed a town were the casual passersby, crooked shop signs, and various lights illuminating the area. Different, but somehow more welcoming than Diamond City’s makeshift sanctuary. Perhaps it was the air of liberation this place held, or the rough types she saw walking by. People who looked like they’d seen some shit, not just heard of it. One such type, a bald man with a thick brow and stubbled, scarred face, wearing a filthy leather jacket and pants to match, was leaning against a doorway to one of the shops, when he looked up at Jak in the middle of lighting a cigarette. 

“Hey,” he began, in a gravelly voice. “Hold up there. First time in Goodneighbor? Y’can’t go walkin’ around without insurance.”

Jak looked back at Cait and smirked. “Looks like we got ourselves a tough guy.” She continued forward, limping right past the man, ignoring him entirely. 

The man grabbed Jak’s arm. “Hey, where d’ya think you’re--”

Cait launched her fist right into his face, causing him to stagger and fall backwards. By the time he got up both Cait and Jak had their guns aimed at him.

“Whoa, whoa, time out,” a voice rasped, somehow dryly and wetly at the same time. 

A ghoul man wearing a tricorn hat and a red frock coat stepped out of the shadows. Jak wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, or if he’d just now shown up, but she was more intrigued by the man’s curious garb. Beneath the frock coat was a blue ruffled jacket. He wore loose fitting blue pants that tucked into tall boots. Around his waist appeared to be the red, white, and blue flag Jak had seen before. She had never seen any clothing like his before, that was certain.

“Someone steps through the gate the first time, they’re a guest,” he continued calmly. “You lay off that extortion crap.” 

“What d’you care?” the bald man retorted, brushing himself off. “They ain’t one of us.” He gestured to Jak and Cait, who were both still aiming at him. 

“No love for your mayor, Finn? I said let ‘em go.”

“You’re soft, Hancock,” Finn sneered, narrowing his eyes. “You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

By now a small crowd had gathered of curious spectators. Some people eyed Jak and Cait and whispered, but something told Jak they weren’t saying anything bad about them, something on their face. Maybe admiration? Simple intrigue? She wasn’t sure.

“Come on, man. This is me we’re talking about.” Hancock said, closing the gap between him and Finn. “Let me tell you something.” He leaned in, uncomfortably close to Finn. 

Jak wondered if she was the only one that noticed the knife Hancock had grabbed from behind his back. Before Jak could tell Cait, Hancock sprang to action, placing his free hand on Finn’s shoulder and plunging the knife into his stomach repeatedly. He released the body, letting it fall to the ground. He wiped the knife on the leather jacket Finn had been wearing. He turned away from the new corpse and strode towards Jak and Cait, who by now had lowered their gun.

“I like you two already!” he said with a crooked grin and a chuckle, pointing the knife at them. “Walk into a new place, make a show of dominance. Nice.”

Jak and Cait exchanged confused looks that quickly turned into devilish smiles. Cait turned back to Hancock, beaming. Jak could tell this place was more of Cait’s speed. It definitely seemed more exciting than Diamond City.

“Sorry you folks had to see that,” Mayor Hancock continued. 

“I’ve seen worse, “ Cait giggled.

“I’ve done worse,” Jak added cockily. From the corner of her eye she noticed Cait glance over.

Hancock made a short sound indicating he was impressed, his bare brows raising, grin broadening. “I think I’m gonna like you guys. Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone’s welcome.” He then glanced at Finn’s corpse. “‘Cept that guy. Asshole was on my last nerve. You stay cool though, and you’ll be a part of the neighborhood.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “So long as you remember who’s in charge.” He stared for an uncomfortable moment. 

“Anyways!” he said, clasping his hands together, smiling once more. “What brings you to my fine town on this not-so-fine day?”

“We needed supplies that weren’t from Diamond City,” Jak answered. Beside her, Cait nodded.

“More of the City’s unsatisfied customers? Well you two came to the right place. Weapons, armor, general supplies, that’s all over there,” he gestured to the fronts Jak saw earlier. “A little farther thataway,” he pointed down the street, “And you’ll find yourself some food, some rest, whatever you need.” He looked over at the large, dingy building they stood next to. “Oh, and this right here is the old state house, some fancy dudes used to chill here. I take its residence though. So if you ever need me, I’ll be there. Sound good?”

“Sounds great!” Cait said. 

Jak smiled besides her. “Thanks, Hancock.” She offered her hand. “I’m Jak. This is Cait,” she tilted her head in Cait’s direction. Cait stuck her hand out as well.

“Pleasure to meet the both of ya,” and he shook their hands. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some mayor duties to attend to,” and he sauntered away with a wink.

The pair hurried along, trying to get out of the rain. It had slowed down significantly but it was still cold. 

“I think we’re gonna fit in here, Jak.”

Jak faced Cait as they walked, cocking her brow. Cait’s face was glowing, staring expectantly, hopefully even. Then it dawned on her. “Cait, we’re just here for supplies, remember?”

“I know, I know, but look, if we just stay here we could relax a little, no more constant worrying! We’d have food and shelter and comfortable places to sleep and--”

“All of my stuff is back at the apartment.”

“--we could go back and get your stuff, we know our way here now and--”

“Cait--”

“--the mayor seems like a badass, Jak this is our shot at--”

“Cait,” Jak intoned, loud enough to override Cait’s excited rambling. She knew how much Cait just wanted somewhere to fit in somewhere and lay low for a little. Hell, she wanted to do the same. “I can’t stay here. Not for long. There’s something I’ve been trying to do. You can stay wherever you please, but I can’t. Not yet.”

“What’s that important, Jak?” Cait asked, flustered. “Aren’t you tired of strugglin’ out there? I’m not sayin’ we’d never struggle again but it’d sure be a hell lot less.”

Jak sighed. “I just...I don’t know, Cait. I…”

Cait softly set her hand on Jak’s shoulder. “Look, how about later tonight, you and me find a bar or somethin’. We can talk some shite out over some drink.” Then, “I’ll pay,” she added.

“You got enough caps for some booze?”

“Probably, yeah. I’ve had a bit saved up still.”

“Well, I don’t want you to spend your only caps on me, I mean--”

“Jak, it’s me money, I’ll do what I want with it. Besides, I owe you. Listen, all I’m trying to say is we take a breather, spend the night here and decide where to go from there, y’know?”

Jak pondered the idea. There truly wasn’t anything waiting for her outside, not immediately. And it had been a _ very _ long day. “You know what? I think I’ll take you up on that.” 

Cait grinned. “Glad to hear it. Now c’mon, let’s go get those supplies we’ve been talkin’ about.”

Goodneighbor was suspicious, to say the least. Everybody had a backstabbing look and a cutthroat attitude. For example, the owner of the weapons shop was a robot Jak could only assume was female, and she was very sarcastically sinister. It made Jak uncomfortable, but she was able to stock up on ammo so it didn’t matter entirely too much. The town itself was rather drab, a continuous blur of brown and grey, illuminated by an assortment of street lamps and hanging bulbs. Occasionally a steaming sewer grate opened up in the middle of the narrow street, though Jak couldn’t figure out where the steam was actually coming from. 

Regardless, it was better than nothing. It seemed like the kind of place where you would be alright if you stuck to your guns, both literally and figuratively, and minded your own business. Jak didn’t mind this. She knew how to handle herself, and not trusting people wasn’t anything new. She could tell these people felt the same. It must’ve been obvious they were outsiders, because people still stared, curious, confused. But they didn’t make a show of hiding it, not like in Diamond City, where it felt like people were quietly sharing secrets about you that even you didn’t know. The folks in Goodneighbor weren’t afraid to gawk at an outsider, keenly keeping an eye on them. It was almost intimidating. 

Almost. 

The girls bought what they needed, as much as they could afford and easily carry. Jak’s pack now bit into her already-sore shoulders, burdened with this new cargo. The wound on her leg burned angrily despite the stimpak she'd used, partly due to the alcohol she had Cait put on it in hopes of preventing infection. They had more food, water, ammunition, the bare necessities. They made sure to keep just enough for the night’s plans while spending enough to keep them supplied for a little while longer.

By now the rain had stopped, though the clouds remained, making the early dusk skies overcast, almost foreboding, considering the rest of the current environment. 

“You okay?” 

Jak turned to Cait. The two had been sitting in silence on a random bench, inspecting their purchases and their surroundings. At the moment Cait was torn between looking at Jak and scrutinizing an unlabeled can of...something. Meanwhile Jak was...well, she wasn’t really sure what she was doing.

“Jak?”

“Yeah,” Jak replied hastily. “Yeah, I’m okay. Why?”

Cait made a casual face and shrugged. “Just checkin’, I suppose.” 

Jak gave a short chuckle. “Thanks,” she said, smiling. 

“Don’t mention it.” Then, “Since we got nothin’ else to do, how about we find ourselves a bar?”

They found The Third Rail, an abandoned subway station-turned-bar. It didn’t take long to find it, considering how small Goodneighbor really was, as well as the fact that The Third Rail was a bar name if Jak had ever heard one. 

Inside was cool and dim, a single white incandescent light revealing stained concrete columns, a portion of them covered in dusty blue tiles. The cement floor spiderwebbed with cracks. A ghoul man sat in a comfortable-looking armchair, acting as a sort of bouncer, wearing a black tuxedo and a fedora to match. Just to the right of him was the doorway that presumably led to the bar. 

Upon noticing their arrival, the man stood up from his chair and approached them. He looked them both up and down.

“You two troublemakers?” he grunted. 

“We know when it’s unwelcome,” Jak smirked. 

“Good. Don’t make me have to throw you out.”

“You got it, pal,” Cait said. 

He stepped aside, allowing them to enter. 

They descended the stairs until they were met with music and singing, a low, sultry woman's voice. The smooth concrete turned into wood planks, forming a makeshift floor. Lights were strung across the ceiling that, when coupled with the consistent blue tiles, gave the whole room an atmospheric, bluish tint. Various couches and chairs were spread around the room, along with several tables. Across the way was the bar, stools lined up in front of a couple counters littered with bottles and melting candles. In the corner of the room was the source of the music and singing. 

Upon a large, flat chunk of concrete was a woman with sleek black hair and a sleeker red dress that sparkled everytime she moved. It fit tightly to her body, cutting off just above her knees, exposing slender legs. She had a confident smirk on her face while she sang. Something about her gave Jak a familiar feeling, but she pushed it away. She and Cait took seats at the bar, where a robot was tending.

It was shaped like a large sphere, dented and worn in places but rather shiny. Atop the ball sat a round hat, and somewhere on the ball’s side was a blue, red, and white symbol, some kind of flag perhaps. It had three round, lense-covered eyes attached to small arm-like mechanisms. Beneath were three bigger limbs, each with a different hand-like fixture. The robot hovered there with a jet on its base. Jak had seen robots like these before, though she’d never figured out what they were specifically, Mr. Handy or something.

“Oi! You come here to gawk or to drink?” it called out in a male’s voice with a rough accent Jak wasn’t entirely familiar with, though it sounded vaguely similar to Cait’s.

“Sorry,” Jak mumbled hurriedly.

“Two of your strongest shite, please,” Cait said, trying not to laugh while slapping some caps onto the table. 

“I like you already,” the robot said to her, turning away to prepare the drinks.

Cait turned to Jak. “You know, after Tommy stuck me with you, I was expectin’ to hate your guts. You know, you takin’ my contract and all, I was expecting you to start ordering me around and shite as soon as we left. But you didn’t hold me to that. You weren’t gonna, what was it you said, take me out of one cage and put me in another?”

Jak nodded. This conversation sprang out of nowhere, but she was curious as to where Cait was taking this. 

“Yeah, so anyways. You’ve proved me wrong, doing all of this nice shite for me, letting me eat your food and sleep in your bed and drag furniture into your room,” she smiled at this, “and I just can’t help but to wonder, why? Why’ve you been so nice? We haven’t known each other for a whole week yet and you already seem like the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

“I certainly hope that’s not a problem,” Jak said, feigning shock.

“It’s not, no, it’s just…” she sighed. “If there’s anythin’ I learned at the Combat Zone, it was that nobody does things for other people without expectin’ somethin’ in return. Before raiders took over the place, I had me own bed and three hot meals a day, I was makin’ caps--life wasn’t that bad. Certainly not very hard. But when they moved in...well, they’re not what you’d call ‘the gentle type.’ If you weren’t constantly looking over your shoulder someone would rob you or...worse. I quickly found out I had to buy my friends to make life easier. So I guess I’m just...waiting for you to hand me a bill, you know what I mean?”

“Cait, you don’t owe me _ anything _. I promise.”

“I don’t know, I’m having a hard time believing that. Look, I’ll think of something to repay you with. We’ve been through some tough crap, Jak, and I don’t think it’s ever gonna get any easier. Especially with...well, me. I just...give me time. I’ll think of something.”

The robot set the drinks down loudly, liquid precariously bobbing around the edge of the glasses. 

“Thanks,” Jak told him. Then to Cait, “C’mon, you’re already buyin’ me these drinks, man. How much more do you wanna do for me?”

Cait stared at Jak, slightly narrowing her eyes. “I’ll think of something.”

“If you really think it’s necessary, fine then, go for it. I’m just saying, it’s not needed. Look--” she hesitated, breaking eye contact. She was about to open up to someone for the first time since who knows when, Nick Valentine maybe. There was that whole incident. She sighed, took a large swig of her drink, and continued. “I...I think it would be nice to know each other a little more, open up a bit. It hasn’t been long since you’ve been around but it’s hard to say how long_ anyone _ will be around so...why not just, make friendly now, you know? Why wait?”

“Yeah, that...that could be good.”

“Yeah...so...I guess the first thing I want to say is...well, yeah.” Jak sighed again, frustrated with herself for not knowing how to fuckin’ talk to anyone. Why was it so hard? “Okay, so, you said it yourself last night. That it hasn’t been that long and you didn’t have the right to make attachments so soon. But...I feel the same. Cait, I...I’ve been on my own for a long time, practically all of my life. I grew up alone. I’ve intentionally kept my distance from people, not trusting anyone for anything at all. 

But when you first stood by my side, back at the Zone, helping me take out all of those raiders, I felt...different. Like I wanted to trust you. And I told myself not to place that in you, because you’d get away as soon as you could, but here you are. Here we are. That’s why I don’t want you to try and repay me for anything. I suppose it benefits me as much as it does you.”

Cait nodded trying to understand what she saw in Jak’s steely eyes. She downed her glass. “Hey, I know I said we’d get some drinks and talk, but...well the story I want to tell you I don’t want to tell you here.”

“That’s fine, do you want to go, or?”

“Let’s just order some drinks for the go and...and find a place to stay for the night. I know I need both.”

“That’s fine, Cait, we can do that.” She finished her own drink.

“You’re sayin’ that now, but when you hear me story, you just might regret it….”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jak backstory ;) (Jakstory?)

The Hotel Rexford was a lackluster imitation of its former elegance. Decorative lamps and a stylized balcony, both of which were a faded emerald green trimmed with gold etchings, were fixed to the damaged stone brick walls. The name was written with red neon lights hung between tall, partly shattered windows, two things Jak found common to Goodneighbor. 

Inside, four ancient marble columns held up the structure, though Jak noticed parts of the ceiling that had caved in. The walls were made of the same marble, stained with time, while the floors were of wooden planks, rotted in some places. Aside from the ceiling debris that littered the floor, small collection of furniture, and lobby desk, the lobby itself was rather empty. 

An older woman with a permanent frown stood at the desk, half asleep. She took Jak’s caps and sleepily handed her a room key. She eyed Jak, then Cait, then the alcohol in Cait’s hands, made an amused sound to herself, then gestured for them to proceed.

They walked up the loose, creaking stairs, each step producing a terrible sound. As they turned the corner, they nearly ran into a balding man in a brown cap and filthy blue jacket. Both parties stopped, him looking dazed out of his mind. 

“Hey,” he began, slurring. “Want some chems?”

“Y’know now that you--” Cait was interrupted by Jak clearing her throat. Cait sighed. “No, sir, not today.”

“You know where to find me,” the man said, making a lazy attempt at a salute. He stumbled down the stairs. Jak didn’t want to find him. She knew it wasn’t her business but she didn’t want Cait to start using again.

The room was modestly furnished, though the room itself was lacking. The wallpaper was peeling, the windows were boarded up, and it all smelled like mold. Jak missed her version of home, but it was dark by now, and she was _ not _going to travel in the dark.

Cait looked around, wrinkling her nose. “How wasted d’you think we’ll have to be to make this place look pretty?”

Jak shrugged. She hadn’t drank in a long time.

Cait sighed, plopping down onto the large bed. “Guess we better get started then.” She opened one of the bottles of liquor, took a long drought of it, then offered it to Jak. 

Jak drank some, feeling the burn trickling down her throat, then sighed, out of contentment more than anything else. The day had been long, and she was ready to finally wind down for the night, just her and Cait, the way she’d began to get used to. 

“So I suppose I owe ya a story, huh?” Cait sighed, sounding almost defeated.

“Only if you wanna tell it, man. Really, it’s fine if you’re not up to it.”

Cait took another, even longer drink from the bottle, then sighed. “No, no it’s like you said, we oughta just open up now. For all we know we’ll be dead tomorrow. Just know I’m not good with opening up to people, so….”

Jak smiled earnestly. “Me neither, but I think it’s trying that counts.”

Cait nodded. “It all starts with two wastes of humanity I suppose you could call me parents. I’m convinced I was a mistake, because...I can’t remember a single moment that they treated me like their daughter. I was yelled at, beaten, everythin’ I ever did was wrong. Nothin’ but a nuisance in their eyes. The whole time I was tellin’ meself that they had to love me, even if it was just the tiniest bit, because they never kicked me out. Then me eighteenth birthday arrived, and I found out why they kept me so long.” She paused, taking a drink. 

Jak leaned in attentively. 

“They...they slapped a shock collar around me neck and sold me to slavers. They didn’t even care enough about me to say goodbye. Eighteen years of sufferin’ through that shite and all I was worth to them was a pocketful of caps.” Cait’s eyes glistened in the dimly-lit room.

“Wow, Cait, I...I’m so sorry.” Jak knew what it was like to be a slave, but it wasn’t her own parents that abused and betrayed her.

“Thanks Jak, but there’s more to the story.” She sighed, staring at the bottle. She offered it to Jak, who accepted it. “It would be easy to blame me ‘charming,’” she injected the word with sarcasm, “personality on me parents, but they didn’t make me this way, I did. I was with those slavers for five years, roughest five of me goddamn life. The...the things they made me do, the way they used me for their amusement….”

Jak passed her the bottle.

“It sickens me to me stomach even thinkin’ about it,” she punctuated with a drink, wiping her mouth across the back of her hand. “But I bided me time, learnin’ to use their own methods against them. Stealin’ a few caps out of a sleepin’ man’s pocket is a piece of cake, as long as you don’t get greedy.”

“I don’t know how the hell you survived.”

“That makes two of us,” she said bitterly. 

Jak noticed Cait’s knuckles turning white as she gripped the bottle tighter.

“It took every ounce of patience I had, but after five years I had finally pocketed enough to buy me own way outta there. But...instead of headin’ off to try and repair the shambles of me life, I...I gave in to me rage and headed home. You can imagine the look on their faces when I kicked open their door,” she said, chuckling, though Jak noticed a slight quiver in her lips. “What you can’t imagine is what they looked like after I...after I emptied me gun into them!” She looked away, lips quivering more.

“It...I mean...I would’ve done the same thing. It seems fair.

“Is murder fair, Jak? When I close me eyes, all I can see is their faces twisted with fear, and then me mind starts wanderin’ and I start judgin’ meself, and it’s rippin’ me the fuck apart. You think I inject meself with all that shite and,” she drained the rest of the bottle, tears now streaming down her face, “drink meself drunk because I’m a ‘tough Irish gal?’”

“Cait. I never--”

“I do it so I can forget and move on with me miserable life. So...there you are, the entire flawed package known as Cait, stripped bare for your perusal.” She let her face fall into her hands, her body shuddering.

Jak did something she hadn’t done to anyone in a _ very _long time. She wrapped her arms around Cait, embracing her. Jak felt Cait’s body freeze from the initial contact, but slowly her muscles relaxed, as she melted into Jak’s arms. Jak didn’t know what else to do, but this felt good. 

“I’m proud of you, Cait.”

She looked up at Jak through tears, strands of red hair clinging to her wet face. “I knew I was takin’ a chance tellin’ you all this, but...I never expected you to say you were proud of me. I...think I needed to hear that from you.” 

“I’m...I’m always here for you, Cait. Good company is hard to find out here and you’re...well you’re better than most, I’d say. And I don’t really think there’s anything you’d tell me that could change that. We’ve all done, or...wanted to do...some fucked up things in this world, and...well I’m not gonna judge you for your past.” 

Cait attempted a smile. “I...didn’t expect you to say that, honestly. It...feels good knowin’ you have my back. Thank you. I just...I hope you know I have yours.”

“Of course, Cait, you have since I went to the Combat Zone. I like it. I’ve never had someone to...to rely on, you know?”

Cait nodded, wiping her tears. “So, uh, it’s your turn if you wanna share.”

Jak took a deep, shaky breath, grabbing the other bottle of booze. Her heart felt like it was going to burst through her chest, her stomach ready to fly away. This was it, the point of no return. Once she revealed her past, her motives, the very reason she was alive, there would be no going back. She drank from the bottle, feeling the burn brought with each swallow, coughing a little. 

“I was a slave too,” she began. “But unlike you, it wasn’t my parents’ fault. They were slaves, somewhere out west from here called the Capital or something. I...guess they needed more slaves, ‘cause...well, I was born. I can’t remember much from those days. I asked them all the time, though, why we were trapped, why the mean people made us do their work, what was wrong with us, what we did wrong, but...well, they had no answers. They didn’t even understand. We were just...unlucky souls, you know?” 

She smiled wryly. “I remember one time, they, the slavers, they beat my dad in front of me and my mom. I think he tried to steal food for us, but I guess they caught him. There were three of them, one gun on us, one on my dad, and the last guy was the one kicking the shit out of him.

Cait grimaced, making a sound to match. 

Another drink, then, “That’s probably the second most vivid memory I have of that time. I was young, probably only...ugh, I don’t even know. I….” Jak jammed her palms into her eyes, losing herself for a split-second in the explosion of colors that ensued before allowing the dim, faintly-odorous room to come back into focus. This was where the story truly began.

“What...what’s the first most vivid one?” Cait asked quietly.

Jak chuckled. “I don’t know who did it, or how. We had these collars that my parents told me were controlled by the slavers. They could make them explode or something if you tried running away. They tracked you with them and had some sort of remote to control them, so...escaping was impossible.” 

Cait nodded, a look of familiarity on her face.

“But...one night, I was staring at the stars, the moon, I think I did that a lot, I was looking at them and then I heard someone unlock our cage. I looked but I couldn’t see anyone, just the lock hanging loose from the door. Beside our cage was this cage full of kids, and I guess theirs was unlocked too because they ran away. And I waited a couple minutes before telling my parents, because I’d seen failed escape attempts before. But I didn’t hear anything else. 

I woke my parents up, and they didn’t believe me at first. My mom cried, my dad told me I was acting stupid. Escaping was never even considerable for them. I ignored them though. Despite how young I was, I knew I didn’t want to live like that forever. I started seeing more and more figures, running through the darkness. Someone had turned off all the collars. People were _ really _escaping. I told my parents I loved them, and that I was sorry, and then I ran. I didn’t care what happened, I just ran.”

“Did they follow you?” Cait asked as Jak sipped the booze. 

Jak nodded, hiccuping. “Yeah, no sooner than I stepped out of the cage, my feet were lifted off the ground. My dad had swept me up, my mom beside him. They joined the horde of people flooding from that hellhole. I remember looking up at my dad from his arms as he ran, the determination on his face. A shooting star flew across the sky, and I wished for everything to be okay, that I’d be free to live for myself.” She shook her head, staring blankly at nowhere in particular. “I guess you really do have to be careful what you wish for.

We got away, somehow. People were dropping all around us, left and right, from tripping or being shot by the slavers or...we were lucky, I suppose. But it didn’t last long.

We’d been traveling for a couple of weeks, my parents trying to find somewhere to settle down. They’d heard rumors about this place called Diamond City, about walls and security and...yeah. So it was late, one night, we were camping somewhere far off the road, and we were all asleep. And then I woke up, and I….” Tears rolled down Jak’s cheeks as she shut her eyes, tossed her head back and tried to wash down the lump in her throat. She gritted her teeth. 

“I saw my parents murdered in their fucking sleep.

“Holy shite….” Cait muttered.

“The people, the...the killers, they didn’t know I was awake until I screamed. They turned to look at me but I ran. I was running from them, but I...I wanted to run away from my parents. Their fuckin’ throats were slit open, man, I didn’t wanna...I wanted it to be a dream. I kinda just collapsed at one point and told myself it was a dream. I woke up the next day in that same spot, so….”

“Who were they? Slavers?”

“I...don’t know. I have this awful suspicion but...this story’s not finished.”

“That’s okay, I’m listenin’, Jak.”

“I was terrified. Alone. Wandering into practically nothing, it all looked the same to me, I was just a goddamn kid. I think I was roughly ten. We...I never had a way to track the time so I’m not certain, but...I was on my own for a very long time. I’d stare at the stars, and the moon, every night. And I’d cry. I’d have nightmares. I’d wake up crying. Couldn’t find anybody to trust, couldn’t trust anybody I found. 

I hopped from caravan to caravan, never trusting, more like borrowing the company. And food. And protection. Nobody wanted to leave a little girl all alone. I think there was a point where I realized just how unsuspecting people were because I was so young. I took advantage of that. I robbed people at night, disappearing before sunrise.” She sighed, she drank. 

“If I wasn’t turning around to find some mutant creature looking back at me, I was facing actual people. I knew how to run away, how to be quick, smart, because I had to be. But I never knew how to fight. I couldn’t defend myself. So I stole a gun one night, just a pistol someone left lying around, and kept it with me, just in case.” She reached for her side, drawing the gun she was talking about. “I’ve had it ever since.”

She handed it to Cait, who took it delicately, seemingly astounded at the idea of a kid Jak, all alone, with this very weapon.

“What made you wanna keep it?” Cait asked her, handing it back. 

Jak shrugged. “No use in getting rid of it, I suppose. It’s a pretty common weapon, so it’s not hard to find ammo for or anything….”

Cait nodded. “So what happened next?”

“Well, I eventually found myself here in the Commonwealth, and in turn, Diamond City. I’d heard some trader mention it and had them point me in the right direction. I was miserable, even though I knew I was going where my parents were taking me. I felt wrong for being there without them. But I stayed there for awhile. Tried to do work for small acts of charity or whatever. I stuck out, though. From the way I chopped my hair up to my indifference to everything and everybody, people could tell something was off about me. 

Only person I ever opened up to was Nick Valentine. I felt like I could trust him, because he was a detective and I thought those were supposed to be trustworthy people, you know? It was his job to be trusted with shit so he could figure it out. But he couldn’t figure me out. And he couldn’t figure out why my parents were killed, or who did it. I believed in him so much, I’d check up on him almost every day to see what he knew, but he never knew _ anything. _

I began to hate the people there. They knew nothing of the world outside their walls and their guards. They were pathetic, below me. And slowly that resentment became focused on Nick, the all knowing Nick who didn’t know anything. I held that against him. Stupidly, unfairly. 

I snapped and pulled a gun on him once. He had me removed from his agency, and then the whole town exiled me. I was stupid, and afraid.”

“So...that explains our last little visit?”

“Yeah, yeah it does...so...I found a place to hide, stuck close to the City’s guards, scavenged when I could...I survived. That’s...where I am now.”

Silence fell upon the room as both girls, red-eyed and moderately intoxicated, stared at each other. Jak’s head was pounding, spinning. She hadn’t drank or opened up this much since...ever.

“How’d you do it, Jak?” Cait asked, her voice cracking. 

“Do what?”

“Keep living, not letting fear or rage consume you. What’s your secret?”

“I didn’t feel anything,” she whispered. 

“At all?”

Jak shook her head, sipping from the almost-empty bottle. “I let myself become numb to everything, I blocked out anything I’d ever feel, I just.…” She felt a sudden pang of guilt. She was lying, to Cait and herself. “I’m lying.”

“Oh?”

“Fear was…fear was all that consumed me, and then fear turned into rage and rage turned into hate and hatred turned into a desire for vengeance. I’ve had nothing else to hold on to except the memory of my dying parents and the people who did it, and I don’t even know who they were or why it happened to me. I don’t survive for the sake of surviving anymore. I survive for the sake of killing every last person responsible for--”

“Jak, that’s...not a great idea. I speak from experience and honestly, nothin’ good can come from--”

“It’s the only thing I’ve lived for, Cait. Up until recently I’ve wanted nothing more than this, and I’m so close, I’m getting so close but I’m still so far. It’s Apex, and the New Gods, they’re responsible and I won’t stop until I hunt down every last one of them and--”

“If Apex really has every gang in this hell wrapped around his finger, do you really think you can--”

“Take them out? I can try, and that’s what counts. I already snuffed one of his gangs. I killed that New God at the Zone with my bare hands. I’m just getting started.”

Cait shuddered, picking up the sadistic edge on Jak’s drunken voice. She grabbed Jak’s hands, looking at her with pleading eyes. “Don’t make me mistake, Jak. Don’t become the monster you’re tryin’ so hard to kill. Because you’ll end up killin’ yourself while you’re at it. You’ll never be Jak again.”

“Who is Jak? Tell me who I am, Cait, because I don’t know.”

“You’re the girl that broke me from my cage. I’m not lettin’ you put yourself in one.”

Jak was crying again. The drink must’ve really kicked in, because she was starting to lose it. “You know, I just lied again. That’s not the only thing that’s been keeping me going, recently.”

“Well, what else is?”

“You.”

Cait stared at her.

Jak wiped her eyes. “You make me feel like a human being, Cait. Not some fucking monster. I know it’s only been a few days, but….” She reached out with a shaking hand and brushed the hair out of Cait’s face. Her fingertips slowly glided to Cait’s cheek, where they lingered until Cait softly cupped her hand around Jak’s. Jak felt Cait press her cheek into her hand. They stared into each other’s eyes, green meeting a cold grey, grey getting lost in green, until they slowly leaned into one another. 

Jak had no damn idea what she thought she was doing, but clearly it was going somewhere. Their lips met, and immediately Jak felt a jolt through her body, as if she had just been electrified by this contact. At the same time she was finally able to confirm the strange fluttery sensation she’d been experiencing.

It was her desire for Cait.

The two kissed, slowly at first, as if testing the idea of it, but soon, unspoken intentions fueled by alcohol, fixation, and a blossoming affection for one another unfolded. They were escaping into each other, trying to find a world they both fit in, without the haunt of guilt or the seductiveness of vengeance. This world was just them, surviving for the sake of each other. 

Jak felt human once more as the night dissipated into a blur of tangible, unashamed freedom.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Nothing. 

Jak remembered nothing from the night before. Her head was throbbing, her stomach burning with nausea. She knew she had told things to Cait, but she couldn’t remember everything that was said. Just that she had drank way too much. 

This was only Jak’s first realization.

Her second came when she was aware of a warmth pressed against her skin. A familiar warmth, one that fit softly into the curve of her body, which, Jak realized thirdly, was naked. This wouldn’t have been half as odd if she hadn’t turned her head and found herself staring at Cait’s sleeping face. Her stomach dropped, not because she was repulsed by the idea of sleeping with Cait, but the fact that she couldn’t remember what happened to lead up to this.

Narrowing her eyes at the rays of sunlight peeking between the boarded windows, she stared at the mildewed ceiling, racking her brain for some kind of clue or allusion to what had happened, but she found nothing. Her memory grew fuzzy right around the start of her story, probably where she had started drinking the most. She’d never drank this much before, so she could only guess just how much she actually told Cait.

Cait shifted beside Jak and clung to her arm, the ghost of a smile on her thin face. Jak sighed, not wanting to disrupt Cait’s peaceful slumber. She certainly didn’t mind, she just wondered how Cait would react when she woke up. 

Jak reached over with her other arm, gently tucking a lock of hair behind Cait’s ear. 

Suddenly Cait’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey there, Jak,” she murmured, her voice wavering sleepily as she smiled. Then, as if she just processed what she said, her expression froze. “Wait, Jak? What are you...why am I….” She turned to look under the blanket, presumably at her similarly exposed body. She sat up, clinging the blanket to her chest. Simultaneously, she grabbed her head, wincing. “How much did we drink last night? I don’t remember much….”

Jak wondered just how much Cait remembered. “Neither do I, I uh...I’m sorry, for all of…” she waved her hand around them. “I guess we, uh….”

Cait giggled, somewhat nervously. “I won’t complain if you won't complain.”

“You’re not, like, bothered that we got completely trashed and probably...you know….”

“Are you?”

“Well...not particularly.”

“Hmph,” she said, as if proving a point. 

“I just thought you were...well….”

“Shhh, it’s fine Jak, I told you, I won’t complain.” 

Jak chewed her bottom lip. She didn’t know where this sudden guilt came from, but if Cait wasn’t bothered, she wouldn’t be either. 

“I don’t know about you but I’m gettin’ dressed,” Cait told her, standing up, her back turned to Jak.

“Yeah, me to.”

“No peeking,” Cait teased. 

Jak smiled to herself. Cait suddenly seemed so confident, and...happy. Just thinking about the joy in Cait’s eyes gladdened Jak. 

The girls sat on the bed, fully clothed, much like the previous night except there was no alcohol, just the shadows cast by a hangover over a new day. Jak had her pack open, and they were rummaging through to find something decent to eat. 

“Did you mean what you said last night?” Cait asked.

Jak shot her a quizzical look. “About what?”

“You don’t remember? You said some wild things.”

Jak shook her head. Not quite a lie.

“Well, we _ were _ pretty drunk. You told me about the two things keeping you going, do you remember those?”

Oh, those. Jak told her about those? “Oh, uh, you mean…”

“Revenge, primarily, and lately, me. It’s true, isn’t it?”

Jak told her about those...dammit. Staring at the floor, she slowly nodded as blurry memories came into focus, the words she had spoken. “Yeah, I...don’t know which one you’ll find more surprising but...they’re both true.”

“Well...it means a lot to me Jak, that you think so highly of me. I just wanted to thank you, for everythin’ you told me. I know we were drinking, but I think that just makes it easier for us to say things we don’t know how to when we’re sober. I think you were bein’ real honest, and I feel like I can trust you a lot better now.”

“Thank you, Cait. You too, I think as...weird as circumstances have proved,” she chuckled, “we’ve grown closer.” 

“Yeah, I agree.” She paused, then, “So...does this mean we’re...like….” Cait raised her eyebrows at Jak.

Jak stared in confusion for a moment, then it dawned on her. “Oh! I...I mean do you want it to mean…?”

“I’m...not sure yet.”

“That’s fine! We can...come back to it later, or...something.”

“Sure, sure! I mean, nothin’s changed, we just kinda...slept together.”

Both girls laughed, albeit somewhat uncomfortably. They were making the situation more awkward than they needed to. 

“You wanna...get some fresh air?” Jak asked, gesturing to the door of their room. “Maybe figure out what we do today?” 

Goodneighbor was very much still asleep. The sun was low in the sky, casting lazy dawn shadows across the scrappy town. A few drowsy locals shambled through the emptiness, reminiscent of yesterday’s ferals. The air was brisk, not yet suffocated by the heat. 

Jak enjoyed the mornings, the feeling of a world-stand-still without the sinister implications the night held. It was like a rebirth, every day. She needed that, to at least pretend the day could be better.

“So what’re we doin’, Jak?” 

Jak mulled it over. She wasn’t entirely sure. They had their supplies, so their sole reason for being here was gone. She didn’t want to leave yet but she didn’t know what there was left for her and Cait. 

“I don’t know, how are you feeling?” Jak asked Cait.

“Pretty good, honestly. Jak, I really feel like we should stay here, just for a little.”

Jak stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms. “Cait, I told you, I--”

“Have something to do, I know. You never did tell me what that was, though I suppose we were sorta busy last night.”

Jak nodded.

Cait nodded back, raising her eyebrows. “So...you gonna tell me?”

Jak rolled her eyes, mildly flustered. “Look, I need to find Apex. I’m closer than I’ve ever been but I’m still nowhere. I just...I need to--”

“You mean you _ want _ to find him. You don’t--”

“Cait.”

“Look, I’m just sayin’ it won’t hurt to stay for a little while. Just have a change of scenery for a bit, I think you need it. Maybe someone here can help you, did you ever think of that?”

Jak cast her eyes to the ground rather sheepishly. “No.…”

Cait exhaled triumphantly. “C’mon, Jak, please?”

Jak sighed. Staring into Cait’s willing eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. “Fine.”

Cait’s face broke into a grin. “Great!”

Jak made a small smile. “What’s here for us, Cait? Why do you enjoy it so much?”

Cait shrugged. “Why don’t you?”

“That’s not an answer, man.”

“Ugh, it’s terrifying out there. I’m tired of always feelin’ like we’re gonna fuckin’ die. In here I can at least pretend we’re safe, y’know?”

Jak could understand where Cait was coming from. She’d grown used to feeling threatened, so some semblance of security was rather welcoming. She sighed once more. “Sorry. I...guess you’re right. I just….”

Cait touched Jak’s arm. “It’ll be fine. Now, what’re we gonna do today? Do you wanna look to see if anybody can help you?”

“What do you girls need help with?”

Jak and Cait turned to see Hancock, leaning on a balcony from the old state house, directly above The Third Rail. He had a grin on his withered face, a lit cigarette in his hand. Jak wondered how long he’d been up there. 

“I thought I heard some familiar voices,” he said, addressing the two’s stumped looks. “Can I help you with anything?”

Cait looked at Jak, raising her eyebrows questioningly. 

Jak sighed. She didn’t think he’d know anything, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, could it? “You know,” she said, looking up at the mayor, “there might be something, actually…”

“Well hey, come on in, I’ll meet you upstairs,” Hancock said, motioning them over.

Jak and Cait exchanged a glance. Cait shrugged and cocked her head, as if to say “I don’t see why not.” Jak nodded up to Hancock.

“Alright,” she agreed. 

Inside of the state house was dim. Jak noticed the faint smell of mold and rotted wood, though not as strong as it was in the hotel. The walls and ceiling were peeling and stained, covered in a nameless assortment of grime. A spiral staircase sat in the center of this first room, leading upwards and downwards both. A stern and rather shifty looking guard in a ragged pinstripe suit and fedora stood off to the side. 

“Mayor’s upstairs,” he grunted. 

Jak glanced from the guard’s stony expression to up the staircase. She reluctantly went up, Cait following. The stairs creaked loudly but felt otherwise fairly sturdy. Dust coated the parts of the railing unscathed by passing fingers and grasping hands. To Jak’s right was an open door, and past it sat Hancock on a faded red sofa. Across was a similar sofa, white, though it was so stained it was hard to tell. Between the two sofas was a plain coffee table with a handful of chems scattered across it. As Jak entered she noticed, in the corner of the room, a woman leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a cigarette in her hand. She had light red hair, shaved on one side. The rest of it was flipped messily to the other side. Her eyes reminded Jak of a knife, cold and piercing. Her face was thin, with angular cheeks and a round but slightly pointed chin, covered in a light layer of dirt and drawn into a standoffish frown. She scoffed at Jak’s scrutinizing, puffing her cigarette and continuing to stare back.

“Ahh! You made it!” Hancock started in his nonchalant, raspy tone. “C’mon in, have a seat.”

The two sat down across from the welcoming mayor. Jak noticed Cait eyeing the chems. So did Hancock. 

“Need a fix? I can always get more.”

“No,” Jak said, before Cait could respond. “We’re fine, thanks.” She looked at Cait, who’s eyes lingered for a moment longer on the table before meeting Jak’s. 

Hancock raised his brow, looking between Jak’s poorly hidden concern for Cait and Cait’s poorly hidden disappointment. Then his black eyes twinkled as he smiled.

“Oh, I gotcha. Getting clean, that’s admirable.” He chuckled to himself as he carelessly swept all the chems into his arms and off the table. They spilled onto his lap. “So anyways,” he said, clasping his hands, leaning forward eagerly, causing some chems to hit the floor. “What can I do for you ladies?”

Jak noticed his eyes weren’t entirely black. The center of them was cloudy and red. She was wondering how well Hancock could see when Cait nudged her with her elbow. Jak cleared her throat. “I uh...I’m looking for someone. I was wondering if maybe you knew anything useful.”

“Who’re we lookin’ for?”

“They uh, they call him Apex.”

His smile vanished. “They being?”

“Raiders,” Jak sighed.

“Thought so,” Hancock groaned. “Only the meanest piece of shit out there, I’ve heard of him. That’s the guy you’re tracking?”

Jak nodded. 

Hancock laughed sarcastically. “Right, and Fahrenheit over there’s my daughter. You got a lot of nerve, Jak. I respect that, but with all due respect, you'll never get him. You’d have to take out every gang he has working for him, then his own, before you could even get the chance to kill him. Not to mention he’s got spies and shit, I’ve had a few of ‘em running around here before.”

Something in Jak’s stomach turned when he mentioned spies. “Look, I know it’s batshit crazy, but it’s something I need to get done.”

“Ambitious, I like it. Might I ask why?”

Jak shook her head sadly. She really wanted to trust Hancock but she couldn’t bring herself to tell the story again. “It’s a little too much for me, I can’t. It’s nothing personal.”

Hancock raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, secrets, everyone’s got ‘em. I respect that. Look, you hang around here long enough, you’ll realize I’m not the best mayor. I keep the people happy, but the methods aren’t always clean, know what I mean? I’m no Diamond City shepherd like my br--that McDonough guy.”

Cait snorted beside Jak. Hancock smirked at her.

“So what I’m about to tell you isn’t something I need on the streets. I got secrets too, y’know?”

Jak nodded. She knew. 

“I’ve heard my people talking. Rumor has it there’s a raider spy here, in my town. Fella named Weston. That’s bad for obvious reasons, but I can’t really confront the guy. Doesn’t look too good for me, mayor doing some shady business. I need to know if he’s really a spy, and it’s gotta stay quiet.”

“Can’t you just send some of your guards?” Cait asked, gesturing with her head to outside the door.

“I could, but people know I give the Watch their orders.”

From the corner, the girl Hancock called Fahrenheit cleared her throat.

“Okay,” Hancock rolled his eyes, “I give orders to Fahrenheit and she gives them to the Watch. The point is it’s still representative of me. I don’t need anymore panicked rumors spread. I don’t need anyone thinking I’m panicked, either. Again, doesn’t look good on me.”

Jak thought Hancock must really cherish his reputation with the people. Understandably, she supposed. “So where do we come in?”

“Glad you asked. See, I need to make sure this Weston guy isn’t a spy. You need information, I assume? He might have it. You’d be doing me a favor, and potentially yourself. Just approach him, figure out if he’s a spy or not. If he is, you got my permission to take him out. If not, well, leave him alone then. Come back here, tell me what you figured out, and I’ll take things from there. But remember, quiet. This has gotta stay on the low, you feel me?”

“I feel you,” Jak said, smiling at the mayor’s unique diction.

Cait nodded, looking from Jak to Hancock. 

“Good,” he said, offering his hand with a grin. 

Jak shook it. It was warmer than she expected, a little sweaty. His burnt flesh felt odd against her rough hands. She had to fight the impulse to yank her hand away, hoping he didn’t notice. He didn’t appear to, as he offered to Cait as well. She shook, and Jak could clearly tell neither of them were used to shaking a ghoul's hand yet. 

“Right, well, you can wait till night to get that if you like. I’d just appreciate it if you do it ASAP. Weston usually hangs out around The Memory Den. He’s a chem dealer, like most folks here. Got a bit of a combover, looks real strung out. Always been a bit of an outcast, I think. See what you can get from him.”

The girls got up to leave, Jak risking another glance at Fahrenheit. Her eyes were met with a contemptuous stare. Jak tore her eyes away from it. She smiled to herself. 

“One more thing,” Hancock called. 

Jak turned around. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

“Don’t mention it,” she nodded.


	9. Chapter 9

“Hey, I think I left somethin’ back at the mayor’s,” Cait said.

Jak turned to see Cait patting her sides, checking her pockets and bag. “What is it?”

“Nothin’ but an old keepsake of mine, just a locket with...me mum and dad in it.” Cait’s voice faltered. “Can’t believe I fuckin’ lost it.” 

“It’s okay Cait, let’s go back for it.”

“N-no!” she exclaimed, a little too fast. 

Jak cocked her eyebrow. 

“I just mean, it’s me problem. You don’t have to--”

Jak laughed. “It’s no big deal, Cait, I’m fine.”

Cait sighed. “How about you just...wait for me. I’ll meet you back at the hotel, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Jak couldn’t help feeling Cait was acting strange, but she wasn’t going to pry. Maybe Cait had something against Jak seeing her parents or something, hell if she knew. She decided not to think anything of it.

  
  


* * * *

  
  


What a stupid fuckin’ lie. And Jak bought that shite? Cait felt guilty lying to Jak, and she knew Jak meant well, but she just couldn’t help it. She wasn’t good with the whole staying-clean bit. She wasn’t going to use this anyways, not until she felt especially over the edge. She knew that was going to be hard but shite, a little test wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she’d rather be restrained by herself, not Jak. Cait really liked Jak but she wanted to be in control of her life, not Jak.

The guard in the state house let her through, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. A similar look was given by that Fahrenheit girl as Cait rushed into the room. Hancock was standing at a window, but he turned around, a confused smile lighting up his face.

“Hey there, somethin’ wrong?”

“Do you have any Psycho?”

Hancock tilted his head to the side. “I thought you were getting clean or something.”

Cait chuckled. “You’ve got a lot to learn about me, then.”

Hancock slowly nodded, smiling still. “So…”

“I’ve only recently been tagging along with Jak. I’m tryin’ to stop for her but....”

“Applaudable, I’d say.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t been itchin’ to shoot up.”

“Needles never settled with me, I like Jet, it’s fast, and all you gotta do is breathe. Easy stuff, you know?”

“Look, no offense but I didn’t come here to talk about our chem addictions, I’m just gettin’ sick of Jak tryin’ to cut me off. She means well but I want to be in charge of my own withdrawal, not her.”

“That’s understandable, man, I feel you. So, might I ask, how does that tie in to you asking me for some Psycho?”

Cait ran her hand through her hair. “‘Cause...just in case the itch gets too bad, y’know? Just in case….”

“Well,” he said, chuckling. “I think I have a thing or two around here…” He wandered around the room, rummaging in counters and drawers until he brought out a pair of Psycho. He handed them to Cait, who quickly stuffed them deep into her bag. 

“Thanks,” she said, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself. 

“Ahh, consider it payment for the favor you and your girlfriend are doing for me.”

“Oh, she’s uh…,” Cait felt her face start to burn. “I mean we’re not really…”

“Ahh, you don’t gotta explain to me, I’m just fuckin’ around. See you later?”

Cait nodded, hurrying out of the room. There was a lump in her throat and a pit in her stomach. She felt a little nauseous, and her hands were shaking. She told herself to get a grip, that she wasn’t doing anything wrong. If Jak could plan murder sprees, why couldn’t she do some chems?

And then it hit her. No sooner than the thought crossed her head, it hit her.

For the first, brief time, Cait resented Jak. 

* * * *

Jak decided to ask people about this Weston character, hear the rumors for herself. She approached someone standing to the side of the street, a rather suspicious looking man, with a grimy, rough face and five o’clock shadow. His red hair fell in short, ratty locks across his forehead. He was tall, thin, but muscular, leaned up against the side of a building, surveying the passersby. When he locked onto Jak, he froze. 

“Hey, I heard some rumors about a spy? Some guy named Weston?”

“O-oh, right, he uh, something about...uh…”

“Somethin’ wrong?” she asked.

“N-no! No, nothing’s wrong!”

Jak forced a smile, prompting the man to continue speaking.

“Weston, yeah he uh, he’s a spy for some raiders, gang called the Dishonored or something.”

Jak felt a pang of recognition. The Dishonored were the other forgettable raider gang. The spy she was going to approach shouldn’t be anything more than that. 

“Thanks, all I needed.”

The man nodded hastily. 

As Jak turned around, she heard the man run the opposite direction. Fuck was he running for? He acted like he was talking to a feral. She made a mental note to check her reflection later. Surely she wasn’t that terrifying. She head back to the hotel to wait for Cait.

* * * *

Jak had only waited a couple minutes in their musty room before Cait entered. 

“That took a minute,” Jak teased. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, Hancock was talking the whole time. I think he was trippin’ out.”

Jak chuckled at the thought. The mayor seemed somehow serious and not serious at the same time about his job. He was quite the character, all things considered. Someday Jak hoped to learn more about him.

“So uh, what now?” Cait asked Jak, setting her bag down on the sofa and sitting herself next to Jak on the bed.

“Well, we oughta wait until it gets dark, I suppose. Then we’ll go to The Memory Den, I think that’s just up the street from us.”

Cait nodded, staring at the floor absentmindedly. 

“You okay?” Jak asked, leaning down to make eye contact with Cait. 

Cait smiled. “Yeah, I just…somethin’ small’s been buggin’ me.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I know you mean well, and I appreciate it. I’ve never had anyone to look out for me. So that’s not what this is about. I just…” 

Jak could tell Cait was reluctant to tell. She put her hand on Cait’s arm. “Go ahead, we can talk it out.”

“It kinda feels like you’re trying to control, Jak. Seems like everytime we’re around chems you try and make those decisions for me.”

Ah, shit. “Cait, you know I’m just--”

“I know what you’re doin’, and all I’m askin’ is that you let me make me own decisions. I’m not your responsibility, and I never wanna be. I really do appreciate your concern, I’m just hopin’ you understand I don’t need it.”

Jak hadn’t realized it came off that way. She really was just trying to help Cait out, but she realized she was wrong. “I’m sorry Cait, I’ll back off next time.”

Cait gave Jak a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Jak.”

Cait’s face was bright red, and Jak felt her own face grow warm, that creeping, burning sensation. A comfortable burn, though. Which reminded her.

“What do I look like Cait?”

“What?” Cait giggled, taken aback.

“I’m so serious,” Jak said, laughing. “I was thinking while you were gone, and I haven’t seen my reflection in awhile…” Jak knew full and well there was a cracked mirror across the room, but she secretly wanted to hear Cait say it.

“Well, right now, you’re blushing,” Cait said, the slightest traces of a flirt under her voice. 

Of course, Jak only knew what a flirt sounded like because she’d delved into that side of herself many a time in order to manipulate people. It was one of few emotions she truly understood, that she never lost touch with, probably because it was human nature to dabble in cravings and desires. Only recently had she truly desired someone. “What else?” she said, trying not get carried away in her thoughts. 

“You’re rather attractive, if that’s what you’re tryin’ to get me to say,” Cait teased. “I feel no shame for admittin’ it, either.”

“That’s not what I meant, Cait!” Jak exclaimed, though she knew she was lying to Cait. Cait really did find her attractive, then? There was a sudden burst of relief now that Jak knew the feeling was definitely mutual, and not the product of intoxication and shitty feelings. But at the same time, she was all the more intrigued. “What...about me, though?”

“Huh?”

“What about me do you find attractive?”

“Oh, well um…” Cait was blushing now. “Your...your nose, right, it--”

“My _ nose _?”

“No listen, it does this little curve and it’s…”

Jak stared at Cait with an exaggerated cringe.

“Okay, fine,” said Cait in mock defeat. “Your lips. They curl ever so slightly at the corners, just up a bit y’know, and it’s pretty damn cute. And the way your cheeks glide down to meet your chin. Your eyes, they’re so...grey. I’ve never seen grey eyes before, but yours are like...like storm clouds are trapped inside them. It’s terrifying, but in a wonderful way. That’s you, Jak.”

“Terrifying?”

“In a wonderful way, yeah. Those eyes, your hair, your scars, you look like someone not to fuck with and I love that.…”

Jak’s heart threatened to leap from her throat if she spoke. She tried to say something but she simply couldn't. 

“You know there’s a mirror over there, right?”

“Yeah,” choked out Jak. “I suppose I do.” She strode over to said mirror, transfixed by what she saw.

The face was thin, round but thin, with a rather straight-bridged nose that curved upward at the tip, just a little. It had a delicately shaped mouth, one that indeed curled at the corners. A thin, jagged scar crossed the lips. Its rust-colored hair was disheveled, down to its chin, falling in choppy bangs across its forehead. Its eyes were, exactly as Cait had said, like storms, trapped. A pair of arched brows framed the eyes, giving it a permanent glare. Another jagged scar curled under its eye, following its cheek. It was...terrifying, indeed.

It was Jak. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she saw herself, nor could she remember where she got those scars. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Cait’s reflection stood beside Jak’s, looking her in the eyes. 

Jak met the reflected gaze, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t sure how to greet this scrawny body, hardened by the Wasteland she had endured for so long, the intimidating features she was trying so hard to memorize. She felt her face with both hands, tracing the curves and scars. 

Cait cupped a trembling hand over Jak’s, who leaned her face into the touch. Jak closed her eyes as she moved her hand over Cait’s, guiding it across her cheek. Cait followed Jak’s direction, trailing her fingers across the girl’s lips. Jak’s eyes fluttered open as she turned to face Cait. Their faces were just a breath away. Jak’s heart was racing as she put her arms over Cait’s shoulders, who in turn wrapped her arms around Jak’s back. Jak pulled Cait closer, and the two leaned in, brushing dry lips, waiting for the other to advance. Jak did, parting her lips enough to fit Cait’s between them. 

They were slow at first, gentle, breathy, as if they had time to spare, time spent savoring the moment. Jak’s mind was racing with frenzied thoughts, all of which involved Cait and a new desire. This was really happening, prompted only by their longings, untouched by alcohol and sadness. This was _ real. _ Jak pushed her hand through Cait’s hair, holding thick, greasy tangles of it. The two were filthy, but that was the least of their worries. 

It remained a slow, sensual experience, until Cait surprised Jak with a bite on her lip. Jak pulled away, staring into Cait’s now-open eyes. 

“Sorry, was that--”

Jak pressed her mouth back against Cait’s before she could finish the thought. What was a soft and affectionate exchange just moments ago quickly became a craving, passionately devouring and almost greedy. They were closer than they’d ever been, and Jak could feel Cait’s heartbeat against her own. They didn’t beat in rhythm, nor did they breathe in unison. Each panting breath blew out across their lips like hot wind.

Jak slid her hands down to Cait’s hips. She slowly led Cait towards the old bed, still very much distracted by the current event, and as a result ended up guiding her into the corner of the frame. Cait smirked against the kiss, lowering herself down onto the bed. Jak pushed her down, straddling her as she bent down to kiss her some more. Her hair fell over Cait’s face, almost like a curtain. The two continued, lips exploring flesh, hands exploring bodies, clothes exploring the floor...Jak wanted to remember this one.


	10. Chapter 10

“That was much nicer than last night,” Cait giggled.

“I wonder why,” replied Jak sarcastically.

Goodneighbor was dark, the tops of the buildings melding with the cloudy night. The streets, however illuminated by the mess of lights, still felt heavy with shadow. The chill air set the town on edge. Or perhaps that was just Jak. She wasn’t nervous, just...unsure. If Weston was a spy, Jak could get information from him. But no way in hell would it be easy. If something went down, she’d have to be ready. 

What was she even going to ask him? The location of the Dishonored camp, but who’s to say he’d tell? And if he did, would he be honest? Interrogation wasn’t her strong suit, only because she wasn’t sure how to trust the answers she got. But she might as well try, right?

“So, uh, you ready to do this?”

Cait sounded both nervous and unsure, Jak thought. Neither were surprising, really. Jak knew Cait was a little reluctant to aid Jak sometimes. But she really needed Cait on her side.

“As long as you are,” Jak said genuinely.

Cait just laughed. She shivered a little as a cold breeze brushed against her exposed arms.

“Cold?” Jak teased

“Yes, smartass, I am.”

“I’ll find you a jacket later,” promised Jak.

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Cait insisted humbly.

“I’m going to find you a jacket later,” Jak affirmed.

Cait just shrugged, clearly unsure of what to say next. 

Jak wondered if Cait was blushing, still fascinated with the word.

“Well there’s the Memory Den, but I don’t see anyone,” Cait muttered as they got closer to the place. 

The Memory Den appeared to be some old theater, turned into...whatever it was. Jak didn’t truthfully know. Red neon lights proclaimed the identity of the location in a manner much like the Hotel. Faded posters worn with time hung precariously on the walls, depicting various shows or performances, whatever they did here. Jak only had the slimmest idea of what that was. 

But it was true, no Weston. Jak wondered if maybe he’d been on their trail the whole time, and knew they were looking for him. But she dismissed the theory, right after the possibility that this was all a set-up by Hancock. It just felt...off. She hadn’t seen anyone all night, not a shady individual in sight. Perhaps Goodneighbor wasn’t so active at this hour?

Jak walked to the chipped, red double doors that presumably were the entrance to the place, but they were locked. She sighed.

“What now?” Cait asked. 

“I suppose we could wait,” Jak grumbled. She really didn’t feel like tracking someone down at this time of night. 

So, they waited. Back against the wall, Jak crossed her arms. She wondered if she and Cait looked like more shady characters. Although she supposed they...kind of were.

It felt like forever, staring out at the dark street. Jak started counting all the string lights, then the lamp posts. Then the string lights again. She was restless, mind swimming with the events that transpired earlier. She looked up at the sky, finding stars peeking out from the clouds as they drifted tiredly past. 

Somewhere along the way she started counting those stars, thinking of her father that night as he ran, little her in his arms. Her mother, panicked. It never used to be like that. Her father used to sing to her, while her mother stroked Jak’s head, running her hand calmly through Jak’s hair, brushing it out of Jak’s face with her fingertips. It was always so long and wild. There was no other choice, of course, not inside their cage. But it didn’t matter. Her mother would keep on running her hand, and her father would keep on singing. Quietly, for disruptive noises were punished.

She could never remember the words of that song, even now. The only two that stuck in her head were “my sunshine,” which confused her because the sun she knew was cruel, harsh. Still, the song always made her happy, with her father’s gentle voice, the way his eyes seemed to glimmer in the dark like tiny little stars, the soft touch of her mother’s hands. Oftentimes that was what she fell asleep to, waking up in the arms of her parents, the only two people she trusted. The only people she ever  _ could  _ trust. Until--

“What’s that, Jak?” Cait asked suddenly.

Jak felt the words give her a smack, as if waking her from some dream. She reached for her gun, now alertly scrutinizing the shadows ahead.

“What is what?” she demanded in a sharp whisper.

“You were humming something, a song,” Cait said.

Jak sighed, relieved. “Fuck, don’t do that, Cait!”

“Why so jumpy?” taunted Cait. 

“ _ Why so jumpy _ ?” Jak mimicked, poorly imitating Cait, trading sarcasm for a childish whine. All in good fun, though, for both girls were grinning at each other.

“But, I don’t know, I’m just really worried that we’ve been set up or something. Everything feels wrong and it’s got my skin crawlin’, man.” 

Cait nodded, shooting a furtive glance around their surroundings. “Ditto, I feel it too. I won’t object if you want to leave, y’know.”

Jak shrugged, equal parts resignation and determination weighing on her shoulders. This could very well be her only shot at getting such a potentially rewarding step in the right direction. She’d be damned if she let it go. On the other hand, it was feeling like quite literally a shot in the dark.

“What was it though?”

“What was what?”

“The song,” Cait said, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Oh, right, that, it’s just…somethin’ I heard when I was a kid. My dad used to sing it….” Her voice faltered, as if her emotions had built a dam in her throat. She opened and closed her mouth several times, attempting to further explain, but the dam was threatening to burst and now was not the time. 

Luckily Cait seemed to have picked up on the feeling, for she made a soft noise of acknowledgement before casting her eyes ahead and around once more. 

Jak cleared her throat, returning her now-blurry gaze to the stars. Something streaked across the sky, a shooting star. A tear slid down her cheek as she silently refused to make a wish. It didn’t do any good last time...why would this be any different?

As the night continued to creep past, Jak fell further and further into her painful reminiscence while Cait stood beside her. The silence was only broken by the occasional creak of the old building they stood against or Cait’s yawning. Jak herself felt her eyelids growing heavier and heavier. The sky had been shrouded in cloud once more, leaving her to stare aimlessly into the lights. Every now and then her vision began to blur, her eyes unfocusing as they fought to close. But Jak needed to stay awake, just a little longer….

“You really think Weston’s gonna show up?” yawned Cait.

“I don’t know anymore,” Jak replied, rubbing her eyes as she yawned in response to Cait’s. “Maybe we should just--”

From the corner of her eye she saw a shadow creep forward. Turning her full albeit drowsy attention towards its direction, she saw the silhouette of a person heading back, rather quickly, the same way it had came from.

“Hey!” she shouted after the retreating figure, startling Cait beside her. “Hey are you Weston?” She sure hoped it was, otherwise she was harassing a regular civilian. Though she hadn’t seen anyone this night, so the chance felt slim. 

Even so, the figure froze as the name reached them. It turned and Jak could just make out a balding head before it started to run away.

“Shite,” Cait muttered as she took off after him, Jak following close behind.

Suddenly she was wide awake, adrenaline coursing faster and faster through her veins as her heart raced. It was a savage sensation, predatorial. Jak smiled to herself. The dumbass couldn’t have stood still, huh? It was his mistake, one she was about to correct.

It was a short chase, for the figure they assumed was Weston was not very fast at all. It was over before it even started. Cait, being stronger and faster than Jak, tackled Weston, his pudgy body crumpling easily from the impact of her muscular form. No sooner did they hit the ground than Jak stood over them, pistol aimed at the balding man. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, please!” cried the man, now struggling against a headlock from Cait. “I’m-I’m not who you’re lookin’ for man!”

“Then why’d ya run, ya bloody idiot,” Cait said through gritted teeth as she restrained him. It wasn’t difficult, just annoying.

“You’re not Weston?” demanded Jak.

“How do you know my name?”

“Yeah no, we’re lookin’ for you,” Cait said.

“Nevermind that,” Jak told Weston. “You’re the spy?”

“N-no! No I’m not, that’s why you got the wrong guy!”

“Don’t bullshite us!” Cait growled, tightening her hold.

“I’m not! I’m not! I swear on my mother, man, I’m not fuckin’ around!” he said, hands slapping at Cait’s arm uselessly. “I know who is though! I know the spy!” He stared up at Jak, wincing and still struggling.

Jak exchanged looks with Cait, who cocked her eyebrow. Jak nodded, and Cait let Weston go. He bent down, one hand on his knee while he held his throat with the other. 

“Who is it?” asked Jak, pistol still trained at him. 

“Fuckin’ town’s got my name all tainted,” he panted to himself. “I’ll bet it was Finn who started all this, the bastard.”

“Oi, who’re we lookin’ for?” Cait snapped.

Weston looked up, and Jak could see the last traces of fear leaving his wrinkled, pockmarked face. He wasn’t anything special, just another grimey chem dealer, and probably addict. “You’re looking for an asshole by the name of Jamison. He’s tall, a little intimidating but he’s a real pussy. Works for the Dishonored, no one believes me though. Somehow  _ I’m  _ the spy. Could you imagine that? Me? A spy?”

“You’d be a pretty shite spy,” chuckled Cait.

“Thank you! Although…,” he continued to ponder the further implications of her statement.

Meanwhile Jak was focused on something else. “This Jamison, does he have red hair? Kinda buff?”

“Sounds like him, yeah. Why? You know him?”

Well shit. 

That guy she talked to earlier was Jamison.  _ He _ was the spy all along.

“Shit, shit, shit,” muttered Jak, her frustration growing. Who knew where Jamison was now? 

“What is it?” Cait urged.

“I met Jamison earlier, while you were gone. I didn’t realize he--” then she turned to Weston. “Are you sure he’s the spy?”

“You’d never think a little bitch like him would be spy material but maybe that’s exactly why they want him.”

“I don’t know,” Cait laughed. “That sounds right funny coming from the arse that tucked tail and ran once he saw us.”

“People got it out for me around her, man!” he started, flustered. “I--”

“We need to go,” interrupted Jak. “Thanks for the help, sorry for the inconvenience.” 

“Being tackled and chased is a bit more than an inconvenience,” he huffed.

“Don’t go runnin’ off and ya won’t get chased,” Cait teased with a wink. 

Weston raised a finger, ready to protest, but let it go. 

* * * *

“Guess we got a lot to tell Hancock,” Cait yawned. 

The two had collapsed in their bed back at the Hotel, Cait appearing more than ready to finally turn in for the night. But Jak was disappointed, and frustrated. She had learned nowhere near as much as she hoped tonight. She’d have to ask Hancock about Jamison in the morning. Perhaps it was good Weston’s name could now be cleared, but if she was being honest Jak didn’t give a damn. Unless, of course, Weston had just squirmed himself free. Had he lied? Regardless, she hadn’t found what she needed, so now she had to keep looking. What else was new, though?

“Go to sleep, Jak,” came Cait’s voice behind her as she wrapped an arm around Jak and held her comfortably. “You’re thinkin’ too much, aren’t you?”

“If only you knew,” she breathed. 

“If only,” replied Cait sleepily. Pretty soon afterwards Jak could hear her breathes coming slower, deeper. Cait was asleep.

“If only,” Jak repeated to the empty, musty dark of the room. She remained awake and restless for a time longer, thinking of everything: the day’s events, her and Cait, her parents, Jamison. 

A haunting wonder kept finding itself back into her mind. 

What if she couldn’t find Jamison?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

She was there again.

The endless ruins from before. 

But why? 

Jak decided to move forward. Everything felt the same as the last time. She was surrounded by all manner of rubble but here was her path, straight through it all. The horizon remained the same, constantly farther than nearer. Panic was crawling up Jak’s throat, choking her breathes as she began to run, chasing aimlessly at that horizon. It felt like forever before the devastated monotony was broken. And there it was.

The cage.

Coming closer Jak could see the familiar red bird, asleep with its head curled comfortably into its wing, its tiny chest rising and falling with each little breath. She smiled adoringly at the creature, wishing to do nothing more than hold it, keep it safe, from anything. 

Even itself.

The bird woke up, as if the idea had disturbed its peaceful rest. 

“Go back to sleep, little bird,” Jak whispered, softly, warmly. 

The bird stared at her, its beady eyes growing more and more menacing the longer Jak held its gaze. Unwavering in its position, Jak decided to turn around and began to walk away. She had better things to do than stare at a bird. As she did so, though, a small thud sounded from behind her. She turned, thinking the bird had done something, but it was staring at her plainly. Cautiously, she turned her back again, only to be rewarded with another, louder thud. She rounded on the bird, who wore the same expression as before, although now it was looking a little roughed up. Jak had the sinking realization that the bird was hurting itself when she wasn’t looking, probably throwing itself against the cage like before. 

Why was it waiting for her to turn though? It was almost spiteful….

“What did I do, little bird?” Jak breathed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Why was she crying? What was going on?

The bird continued to stare menacingly. 

Suddenly Jak felt herself go cold, and she began to cry more, practically sobbing now. She screwed her eyes shut, wishing for things to just make _ sense _. When she opened her eyes next, all she saw was black, smothering her. She didn’t know what was happening or where she was or what had even caused any of this. 

She didn’t know anything until things started making sense. 

The black faded, or rather her eyes adjusted to it, the darkness of her musty hotel room. Beside her she could hear Cait’s slow breathing. She was still fast asleep. Jak rolled over on her back, taking a deep breath as she stared at the colorless ceiling. She looked over at Cait’s resting form, discovering the reason she had felt so cold in the dream: Cait had rolled over in her sleep, her back and a couple inches of space on the bed now facing Jak. Jak looked back at the ceiling, pondering the dream and its differences from last time. Why had it changed? She had dreamed plenty of times but the ones concerning the bird felt strange, almost more than dreams. They were dreams unlike any she’d ever had, she knew that for certain. But _ why? _

Mulling it over in the silence for awhile, she came up with an idea of what they were meaning...but she wasn’t certain. She wasn’t going to think on it any longer, either. She turned to her side, adjusting herself so she could lay against Cait. Gently, she wrapped her arms around Cait, and tried to fall back asleep. 

* * * *

The morning never seemed to come around, for Jak and Cait had slept well past noon. Occasionally one girl would wake, survey the other drowsily, then fall back asleep. But the majority of the day passed by before the two decided to finally get up. It was a slow start, seeing as neither of them was truly awake, but Jak was determined to make use of the day. She insisted on dragging Cait back to Hancock’s. Cait did not object, though she didn’t appear particularly enthused either. Understandably, but Jak needed her. 

  
  


“Heyyy, my favorite gal pals,” Hancock greeted them, cigarette in one hand while his other waved flamboyantly. Behind him on the red sofa scowled a smoking Fahrenheit. “Come on in, we have a lot to talk about, no?” He beckoned them in with a grand sweeping gesture, causing some ash to fall from his cigarette.

“So first things first, our pal Weston, was he--”

“A spy? No,” cut in Jak. “But he told me who is.”

Hancock made a surprised noise, sticking out what would be his bottom lip, if he...still had one. “Huh, I really thought he was the spy here.”

“Supposedly some folks have been dirtyin’ up his name ‘round here,” Cait said. “That Finn guy started the rumor, accordin’ to Weston.”

“Finn? Can’t say I’m surprised, guess everyone’s gonna miss him, huh?”

Cait smirked, glancing at Jak. The smirk faded as she noticed the impatient look on Jak’s face.

“So you said he told you the real spy?”

“Yeah, someone named Jamison,” Jak told him. “If Weston is to be trusted, that is. It’s not unlikely he just made everything up.”

“Seemed convincing to me,” Cait shrugged.

“They always do,” chuckled Hancock. “I’m not one to talk shit about my people but Jamison’s a little bitch if I’m bein’ perfectly honest with you.”

“That’s what Weston said,” Cait laughed. 

“Surely that would be an ideal cover though?” Jak suggested.

“Maybe, maybe,” Hancock said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 

“There’s something else, too,” Jak started. 

Hancock looked at her, brows raised.

“Yesterday I was going to ask people about the spy rumors, and the person I happened to ask was Jamison. He fit the description, anyways. Tall, little muscular, seemed real on edge.” Hancock nodded as Jak continued. “The whole time I was talking he seemed afraid of me, tripping over his words and stuff. As soon as I turned my back he ran the other way. He seemed suspicious from the get-go but I can’t help wondering if Weston is right about him.”

Hancock continued to nod, further in thought. 

“What could you tell us about him?” Cait asked.

Hancock looked at her, then laughed dryly. “I wish I could say I know everything about every one of these folks but there are some dudes that just slip my mind. He’s one of them,” he sighed.

Fahrenheit cleared her throat loudly, and everybody’s eyes were on her. “Rookie, just joined the Neighborhood Watch. It’s been a hell of a time trying to train him, though. Kid jumps at his own shadow.”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed slightly as he registered this new information.

“If he _ is _a spy then he’s been right under your nose the whole time!” Cait said. “He’ll know anything the Watch does and that could prove useful to a raider gang!”

Fahrenheit glared at Cait, as if she had just spoken some horrendous insult, but Hancock’s eyes widened. The way the light shined, Jak could see the cloudy red centers, once again wondering how well he actually saw things. She fought the stupid impulse to ask. 

“You don’t think they’re trying to infiltrate, do you?” he said to Fahrenheit. 

“Probably not,” Jak answered. It was her turn to be glared at. “He works for the Dishonored. They’re nothing special, I’d be surprised if they even had the manpower to attempt something like that. Apex probably just wants to keep tabs running through all of his groups.”

“I don’t like this,” muttered Hancock. “Spies ain’t cool, man. Not cool at all.”

“I can take care of him,” Jak said. Then turning to Fahrenheit,“Do you know where he spends his time off duty? Where he lives, even?”

“I imagine The Third Rail,” Fahrenheit answered cooly. “That’s where most people hang around at night. As for where he lives, hell if I know.”

“Well when’s his next shift? Surely you can just get him then,” Cait told Fahrenheit.

“Not till tomorrow,” she grunted.

“Whatever you’re gonna do I suggest doin’ it fast,” Hancock said, sounding almost nervous. “I ain’t very comfortable with this situation.”

“I’ll try my best,” Jak said.

  
  


“Didn’t Fahrenheit say most people come here at _ night _?” Cait asked, staring outside in mock confusion as they entered The Third Rail.

“Yes, smart ass,” Jak grinned, “but I wanted to ask around now before making a pointless trip later. The more we know the sooner, the better.” 

Cait simply made a noise of agreement and nodded.

The place was rather quiet for the time of day, as there weren’t many patrons. This was perhaps due partly to the fact that the singing lady was not to be seen. Her presence was clearly everything, for the bar felt much less inviting. It still held the same blue tint, but it was much less atmospheric as before. However, it was also much more likely that people just didn’t enjoy the bar during the day. Jak could only see a few people scattered throughout the place. She saw a man somewhere around her or Cait’s age, so...fairly young, with a bald head and sunglasses, sitting off in a corner; an older man wearing a patchy suit, and a rather glum looking ghoul couple. The same spherical robot was hovering behind the bar counter, wiping out a glass with an off-white rag. 

Jak approached the robot, who turned all three of its lensed eyes up to look at her. 

“What’re you havin’?” he inquired.

“I actually just had a couple questions,” Jak said.

“Here we go again, someone’s always tryin’ to ask me bloody questions. What is it now?”

Surprised by the sudden hostility, she cast a glance at Cait, who shrugged. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen a guy named Jamison. Tall, red hair, looks terrified of everything.”

The robot made a noise Jak assumed signified it was thinking. “I think I recall a bloke like that, what’s it to you?”

“Do you know anything about him?”

“I know he’s a payin’ customer who comes in here often, most people are. Why?”

Jak had the sudden impulse to look over her shoulder, and as she did she noticed the bald guy look away quickly, giving her the impression he was listening in. She turned back to the robot, dropping her voice. “Look, we got some dirt on his name and we’re just lookin’ for him, got a bit of a job to do.”

He chortled at this. “That’s Goodneighbor for you.” He gave a short sigh. “If you buy a drink I’ll talk.”

The two obliged, trading caps for drink.

“Alright, the man’s part of the Watch, in here after his shifts a lot. He likes to gloat about his job but nobody actually believes he does anything worthwhile.”

“You think he’ll be in here tonight?” Cait asked.

“I can’t say for sure.”

Jak sighed, looking at Cait, throwing her hands up in exasperation. What the fuck were they going to do? Did nobody know anything about anyone here?

“Thanks anyways,” mumbled Jak as she turned away.

“Sure,” the robot said, tipping its hat.

As Jak and Cait walked away, Jak noticed the bald man following them from a short distance behind. It seemed oddly coincidental that he happened to be leaving at the same time they were, especially after she caught him listening in. She nudged Cait subtly, catching her eye and motioning with her own to their cautious pursuer. 

Cait looked from the corner of her eye, then mouthed “What do we do?”

“I’ll handle it,” Jak mouthed back. 

They continued walking, back up the stairs, past the ghoul, out the door. Jak made sure it shut all the way behind her before pulling Cait to the wall behind it. She drew her gun, startling Cait.

“Wait what’re you--”

The door swung open, then shut, revealing the man, who looked only a little surprised that he was now being held at gunpoint. 

“You caught me, good job,” he said, smirking with the air of casualty one might suspect from an old friend. He began to check his fingernails nonchalantly. 

“Why’d you start to follow us?” Jak demanded, not at all concerned that she was pointing a gun at a civilian in broad albeit weak daylight. 

“I know where Jamison is and you’re too late to find him.”

“Bullshit, where is he?”

“Not in town anymore,” he chuckled, a sarcastic edge to his voice. “Your pal got out the day he saw you. You must’ve scared the hell out of him, he hasn’t came back since.”

Jak stared at the man, her jaw clenched. Furious, she put her gun back and turned to Cait. “The fuck’re we gonna do now, man?”

Cait thinned her lips apologetically and shrugged. 

Jak rubbed her hand over her face, staring absently into the partially-clouded sky. This was perfect, just fuckin’ perfect. Just what was she supposed to do? If Jamison _ knew _ just who she was, which he undoubtedly did, he could be reporting her whereabouts to anyone right now.

Shit.

“We need to get back to Hancock now, Cait,” Jak said grimly. 

“Yeah, okay,” Cait started. “Is everything okay?”

Jak chuckled wryly. “Not quite.”

“Hey, do I get any thanks here?”

The two rounded on their follower. 

“Maybe don’t follow us next time,” Jak said, narrowing her eyes. 

“There’s a thought,” muttered Cait.

The man smiled as the girls turned their backs and hurried off. “You’re welcome,” he hollered after them.

  
  


“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Hancock groaned.

“I wish,” Jak said, frowning. 

“So you’re tellin’ me,” he began, his raspy voice growing irritated, “that little rat’s gonna show up at my doorstep with a goddamn raider army?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, yes.”

Hands in his face, Hancock stood up and walked towards his balcony. Jak followed him, Cait close behind her. He turned to Jak. This was the closest she had been to him, she realized, as she could see every burn on the ghoul’s face. 

Hancock stared over the shambling people of Goodneighbor, _ his _ people. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re they after you? It _ is _ you they want, right? It’s a little shady this Jamison guy runs off after seeing you. If we’re gonna have to prepare for the worst, I wanna know why.”

Jak had seen this coming, known the connection would be made. She looked down at the people with Hancock, though she wasn’t paying them any real attention. She told Hancock about The Combat Zone, how she and Cait fought their way out of it, making it sound as if she had been captured and brought there, forced to fight and kill a New God. It was somewhat true, the parts he needed to know.

However, Hancock was thinking much faster than Jak.

“Sure, okay, killing one of Apex’s guys makes sense why you’d be on the run from all of his lackeys. But you’re not seriously telling me that’s the _ only _ reason _you’re_ after Apex?”

“So what if it was?” Jak retorted, though a little too defensively.

“Then I don’t know how you’ve made it. You got fucked, you fucked back. You’re alive. I’d need more than that to go on some revenge trip.” He now faced Jak. “Do what you want but you’re not telling me the full story...I only hope I can trust everything else you’ve told me.”

“You can,” Cait reassured from behind. “You wanted to know why they were after her, now you know.”

Jak felt a rush of gratitude towards Cait’s covering up for her. She had, essentially, given him all that he needed to know. However, Hancock wasn’t finished.

“Fine, fine, but how did they know it was you? If you had to kill them all?”

If Jak was being honest, she hadn’t considered this. She had gotten something like comfortable with the idea that she was wanted after the Combat Zone, but who would’ve found out? Sure, more raiders would have came by and noticed the bodies but how could they have known?

As if reading Jak’s thoughts, Cait spoke up. “Tommy,” she muttered bitterly. 

The man certainly had reason to rat her out, Jak realized. She didn’t blame him, though she regret leaving behind such a loose end. Speaking of leaving behind: “There were also a few raiders tied up in some kinda cell. They definitely saw me.” They certainly had no reason not to speak against her. 

As she kept thinking, she remembered the two guards that had strangely disappeared at the end of the whole ordeal. Sighing, Jak found herself disappointed. That was far sloppier than it should have been. None of this would’ve been an issue, or as big of one, if she’d been more careful.

“Great, just great,” the mayor grumbled, more to himself than anything. “So even if you leave, if someone has been told you’re here, they’ll be here regardless.” He turned to face her. “Jak...I’m gonna need you here.” 

“I wouldn’t leave,” she insisted. “This is my fuckin’ mess. I’m not leaving.”

Hancock nodded, clasping a hand to Jak’s shoulder. “Good to know.”

She felt sick, disgusted, her stomach crawling with feelings she couldn’t put into words. She made eye contact with Cait, guilt written all over her face. Cait offered a sad smile in return.

Jak had brought her fight to Goodneighbor, hadn’t she?

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuunnnn


	12. Chapter 12

Goodneighbor was heavy with tension those next days. Neighborhood Watch guards were a more common sight than usual, even taking station outside, and patrols were more frequent. The people knew something was wrong, and some began pestering their mayor for information. Initially, Hancock refused to give much of an answer past an insistence that he was simply being cautious and all would be well. He certainly hoped this would be true if he believed it for long enough, that maybe everything was wrong, Jak was wrong. However, the feeling of failing Goodneighbor was already gnawing at him. He’d allowed a raider spy to remain in his ranks, then let a target for said raiders walk freely into his town, and though he knew he couldn’t have known, he still felt like he should’ve known. Goodneighbor should never have felt as endangered as it did now. For this reason, he was mostly honest, explaining he’d had tips that they could be receiving an attack from a group of raiders coming through. He emphasized that this was still only a chance, hence why he was being cautious. Deep down, however, the mayor of Goodneighbor knew it was more than a chance, and he was sure the people knew that too.  
It quickly became apparent that these suspicions were far from being unfounded, frantic worries when Neighborhood Watch discovered a sort of outpost some ways away from Goodneighbor. A rallying point, perhaps, for there was only a handful of rather inept-looking raiders stationed there. Regardless, it was to be understood as a threat.

* * * *

Meanwhile, Jak was struggling between the guilt of putting the town in danger and the anticipation of indulging her bloodlust once more. This could be an opportune moment to thin the ranks of Apex’s army, and to think of how little she worked for it...she shivered at the thought, though whether it was excitement or anxiety she did not know. How many would arrive? And when? Which gang or gangs? Would they go straight for her or attempt to destroy everything in their path? The more she thought about it, the more Jak’s heart raced. The tension from the last few days wasn’t helping, either. She had no idea what to do anymore, all she could think of was this impending battle.

* * * *

Though Cait knew just how much Jak was anticipating the fight to come, she herself was not at all looking forward to it, nor could she understand how anyone could. She hated to admit that she wasn’t surprised. Cait knew Jak, enough to know she...well, she seemed to take pleasure in some messed up shite. Cait understood...mostly. She secretly despised Jak’s plan, her little conquest for vengeance or whatever the fuck she’d been setting herself up for. It was dark, and that was truly the only way Cait could describe it. She knew what vengeance did to a person. She’d been there, and she could tell Jak was going the same way, if not farther, deeper. Cait knew the outcome. Certainly she didn’t miss her parents, but shite, she wasn’t fuckin’ proud of what she did. Sometimes she found herself wondering, though...would Jak be proud of herself? And some of these times, the answer she could provide was not at all the answer she’d hope for. That was the darkest part, having to wonder if Jak truly would be proud if she went down that far, if she’d enjoy it every step of the way...Cait shuddered, and she knew exactly why.

* * * *

The air was crisp, cool, a precursor to the growing cold Jak knew as winter, and yet the sky was cloudless, sunlit. It was days like these where one expected warm comfort from the sunshine but received anything but, as if the sun was a liar. Jak noticed the likeness of herself in these days, though today she wished she didn’t. They only seemed to reinforce her guilt. It had been a week now, and that mental war had slowed to a stalemate. Within the middle ground, Jak had found acceptance. It didn’t matter how the hell she felt about the situation. It wasn’t changing, she was stuck either way. There was no need to battle with her conscious, it did no good for anyone and only harmed herself.  
Cait had been rather detached lately, Jak noticed. She passed it off as anxiety similar to what she was feeling, but she couldn’t deny it saddened her when Cait didn’t feel like talking.

This day was no different.

Jak and Cait were standing in a short line to Daisy’s Discounts. The store’s namesake, Daisy, was a friendly ghoul woman who sold a little bit of everything: weapons, armor, food. Unfortunately, in light of the raider panic, she quite literally only had a little bit of everything left to sell. Goodneighbor wasn’t the biggest town, so Jak could only assume people either hadn’t gotten themselves prepared yet or they kept coming back to stock up, a rather selfish move she nonetheless understood. Thing was, she and Cait had stayed at Goodneighbor a lot longer than expected. All the supplies the two bought that were intended to be brought back to Jak’s place had been largely used, especially the food and water. They were hoping to renew their stock, as they didn’t have the caps to keep spending on food at The Third Rail.  
The whole time, Jak was casting furtive glances at a silent, sullen Cait, who seemed to not notice the attempted eye contact.

Finally, Jak spoke up. “Cait, are you okay?”

“Huh? Why?” Cait sounded how Jak imagined Fahrenheit smiling to look: extremely forced.

“I can tell, I’m not good at interacting with people but I can read them fairly well. Especially you. What is it?”

“I’m just really nervous about this whole thing, man. Me stomach feels like it’s gonna run away any minute now. And I can’t help but feel we’re responsible here…”

Jak nodded, though she couldn’t know Cait was only telling a partial truth. “I feel it too...but it is what it is now, yeah? I mean why worry anymore, it’s pretty much confirmed now something’s approaching. You heard them talking yesterday, that camp ahead of us is bigger than it was two days ago.”

“So what, just accept our bloody fate?”

“Exactly! It’s a hell of a lot better than worrying. That shit poisons your mind, man.”

Cait did not appear to share this view, leastwise not as enthusiastically as Jak. Jak opened her mouth to question the worsened expression of gloom Cait wore on her face, but she noticed something from over Cait’s shoulder.

The door to Goodneighbor was hanging wide open.

She could see something grey laying on the ground, crumpled, just past the open doorway. At the same time she noticed a strange shimmer, just behind a citizen sitting on a bench. Another one, was it moving? Something else appeared to be following a passerby. Then it hit Jak, her throat going dry, a cold chill running down her spine.

But they hit first.

Bursts of crimson exploded, bodies collapsed to the ground, blood rapidly pooled all around the area, people screamed, some were silenced.

“Stalkers!!” Jak roared out to anyone and everyone that was listening.

It was evident nobody knew just what the hell Jak meant. People were fleeing to anywhere they thought would shelter them from this invisible killer. Not all of them made it, some colliding with unseen forces, others still dropping dead. Jak was quick to figure out how to find the Stalkers, though the telltale shimmer proved a difficult target in the midst of a panicked crowd. Carefully she attempted to pick them off, knowing a hit when a spatter of red seemingly materialized onto the ground, the bigger puddles implying, hopefully, death. Beside her, Cait was just as reluctantly aiming, her shotgun less accurate from their distance than Jak’s pistol. The times she did hit, blood audibly sprayed the ground from the force of the shot.  
Jak felt her heart sinking by the second. How many Stalkers had already made it in here? How many people had already died? Was the mayor safe? Afraid to admit it, guilt was creeping back into Jak’s mind. But now wasn’t the time for guilt, she couldn’t let it--

Gunshots exploded somewhere behind Jak as a horde of Dishonored surged through the door, their bullets whizzing past and shattering the windows of the shop. Jak grabbed Cait’s arm and raced to take cover behind the counter, but as she did she felt a blast of pain shake through her leg. She and Cait half jumped, half rolled over the counter, Jak landing on the freshly-injured leg. With a cry, she looked to see an ugly hole, blood pouring over a barely visible bullet embedded in her flesh. Her face was tingling, and she was taking short, gasping breaths, laughing in between. The image of the mangled hole in her leg was seared onto her brain, even when she screwed her eyes shut.

“What are you laughing at?” Cait shouted, stuck somewhere between hurriedly firing shots over the counter at the new surge of visible raiders and hastily worrying over Jak, unsure of what to do. She scrambled around the room looking for medical supplies, making sure to keep her head low, returning shortly with a bottle of seemingly clean water and some almost-white gauze.

“This is all I could find!” she cried over the noise.

“It’ll work,” Jak groaned as her laughter quickly died. Her teeth clenched. “Just do something, please.” Behind her, Jak could still hear gunshots, screams, and every other sound of chaos.

It was clear Cait had no idea what to do, and truthfully Jak didn’t either. She generally tried not to be shot. Cait muttered hastily to herself as she tried to rip the tear through Jak’s pants bigger. Wincing, Jak gave her her knife. Quickly, Cait managed to cut through the pants, revealing the wound better. She opened the water bottle, pouring it slowly over the mutilation. Jak yelped at the contact, causing Cait to jump and yank the water back, spilling some of it elsewhere. Jak put her fist into her mouth in an attempt to stifle any more outbursts. Bracing herself, she watched as Cait tipped the bottle again, the clear liquid sparkling for a second before touching the bloody hole. Jak moaned slightly in pain, and her leg jerked, but Cait continued until the red mess became a steady blossom. At this point, she grabbed the gauze and wrapped the wound as tightly as she could, whimpering an apology as Jak cried out, but it was over.

“It’s the best I can do,” Cait muttered.

“It’ll work, I think. Thank you so much, Cait,” Jak breathed, and gave Cait a quick kiss.

“What’re we gonna do?” Cait asked, a still-shaking hand absentmindedly tracing her lips where Jak kissed her.

“Well,” Jak said, shifting herself into a kneel with her good leg “I suppose we oughta, get back out there.” The last words were said with pained determination as Jak attempted to push herself from the ground, only to be punctuated with another blast of pain. “Never-fucking-mind,” she growled, panting as she slumped behind the counter again.

“Jak, maybe we should just wait here until the fighting stops.”

“What if it doesn’t anytime soon?” By the noise of it, it wouldn’t.

“C’mon, there aren’t that many raiders, it’ll be over soon. I mean...if we just stay here, quiet, we could be okay.”

“Just hiding, huh?”

“Yeah?”

Jak leaned her head back on the counter, frustrated. “This was supposed to be my fight!”

Cait made a derisive noise.

“What?” Jak snapped.

“It’s quite literally not gonna kill you if you’re not out there killin’,” Cait scorned.

“At least I’d be doing something! Helping! It’s my fault they’re here, ain’t it?”

Cait tilted her head to the side whilst raising her eyebrows, as if to agree.

Jak rolled her eyes. “What exactly am I supposed to do here? This should’ve been--”

“Nothin’ with that leg. Jak look, shite happens. That includes spies and getting your leg shot. You couldn’t have really prevented either, could you?”

“I should’ve known better about Jamison, I--”

“--didn’t know he was a spy,” Cait cut in. “You can try to fix this later, but right now the damage is bein’ done, it’s been done to you, we just gotta sit this out. Acceptance and all.” Then, addressing Jak’s bewildered expression, “I’m sorry, Jak. If there was more to do I’d do it.”

Jak sighed, knowing Cait was right. There was simply nothing she could so. “Can you at least keep an eye out a little bit?”

Nodding, Cait crouched on the tips of her toes, left hand planted on the ground, right holding onto the edge of the countertop. “I don’t see anyone...lotta blood though….”

Jak glanced over lazily, almost in a painful daze. Her mind was mostly occupied by the intense throbbing in her leg, but her lips curled into a smirk. She knew Cait had a nice ass, but even still, she was impressed by the way Cait’s leather pants pulled across the curves so tightly. Returning her head to its original leaning state, she closed her eyes, letting the smirk fade from her still-tingling face as she listened to the sounds of battle. Had they quieted? She couldn’t tell, having spent so much attention on her leg. But when she listened close, the gunshots seemed less frequent, and she hadn’t heard any screams in awhile. Eventually those sounds of panicked chaos became a subdued commotion, the sound of a gathered crowd perhaps.

“You think it’s over?” Jak asked.

Cait peered over the counter. “Well I still don’t see nothin’, but I hear people, sounds like a crowd. Someone’s talking I think.”

“Should we go see?”

Cait bit her lip. “Maybe I should go look first.”

“No way, if you go, I’m goin’.”

“You can’t walk!”

Jak chuckled. “That hasn’t stopped us before, you’ve helped me before.”

“I know, I just…,” Cait sighed. “People are gonna be pissed Jak, if they see you they might, I don’t know, riot or somethin’.”

“What about you? They know you’re with me.”

Cait stared, apparently defeated. “Together, then,” and she helped Jak stand up.

Jak wrapped one arm around Cait’s waist to steady herself. The other hand’s knuckles were white, a tight grip on the pistol Jak relied so much on. Seeing as Cait couldn’t handle her shotgun with a single hand, she was relying on Jak for cover-fire, if it was needed.  
The two made their way through the town slowly, though they had little choice. They worked their way down the narrow strip past the state house, towards the site of the noise. As they drew closer, they could see people crowded together, craning their necks up to look at...something. At the same time, Jak could hear a voice.

“...she is and this’ll all be over, eh?” The voice was a man’s, unfamiliar and impatient. He spoke condescendingly, as if he was bartering with a particularly stubborn customer.

The crowd appeared to be muttering amongst themselves fearfully but no one replied to the man talking.

“Look,” began the man, clearly done with his attempt at politeness. “If you care about your mayor or this town at all, you better start fuckin’ talking!”

Jak and Cait exchanged alarmed glances before pushing ahead, rounding the corner.

“Oh, shite,” Cait exhaled.

The crowd was thin, seemingly what was left of Goodneighbor, and they were amassed around the entrance of The Third Rail, though a better look told they were looking up at the balcony Hancock usually spoke from. He was up there, but he was not alone. A lean raider stood there, pointing a gun to Hancock’s head. The raider wore a general mismatch of junk over a large trench coat and work boots, both covered in a brown layer of dirt. His greasy hair hung in lank waves. His face bore a large scar, a mostly-vertical gash from brow to lip. Something told Jak he was a leader, Dishonored maybe? His face was lined with anger, though Hancock looked calm, unwavering. Surrounding the crowd were more raiders, fully armed, though nothing extraordinary, as well as a handful of Neighborhood Watch, clearly outnumbered yet still determined. They aimed at the raider up top, the ground raiders aiming at them.

Jak was fighting between running and giving herself up. What would she do in this state? She didn’t have to worry, though, for Hancock spoke up.

“She ain’t here anymore, man.”

“Bullshit,” the raider snarled. “My men said they saw her.”

“Guess they saw wrong, huh?” the mayor replied, a smirk on his face.

A bad move, apparently.

The raider smacked the blunt end of his gun across Hancock’s face, causing the flesh to bruise.

“I’m not selling her out like that,” Hancock rasped venomously.

Touched by what Jak deemed a pointless bit of loyalty, she urged Cait to help her forward.

She could see the crowd’s heads turning, then the surrounding raiders'. “Let him go!” she yelled up to the balcony, pointing her pistol at the raider. She could see Hancock’s dark eyes widen. The raider smiled.

“There you are! Got orders to take you in, see? Boss didn’t like your stunt at the Zone.”

The raiders on the ground all had weapons trained on her and Cait. There was confusion in the crowd, whispers and mutters and fear.

“Let him go!” she repeated. She couldn’t let the people of Goodneighbor pay any more for her mistakes.

“Promise to be a good girl and come with us without a fight?”

Jak got Hancock’s eye and gave a slight nod, hoping he caught on. He gave her a wink. She hoped he understood well enough, because she was about to risk a lot.

“Yes, just please let the mayor go,” she said, letting a plea slip into her voice.

“Say you’ll be a good girl,” the raider jeered. Some of the surrounding guards snickered.

“Jak, what--” Cait whispered sharply, raising her shotgun with her left hand before Jak cut her off.

“Just wait.” She looked up at the raider, frowning.

“Say it,” the raider said in a savagely warning tone.

Beside the raider, Hancock stirred uncomfortably. He clearly wasn’t anticipating this, as his brow was raised.

“I’ll...I’ll be a--”

“I can’t hear you.”

“I’ll be a good girl,” Jak confessed, a mix of disgust, rage, and panic boiling in her  
stomach. The words felt like vomit as they left her lips.

“Good. Now put your gun down, we don’t play with those.”

Slowly, and only after being sure the raider was doing the same, she lowered the gun.

“Now,” began the raider, though he never finished.

Just then, Hancock cracked his elbow against the raiders face, causing him to drop his gun. Hancock dove to pick it up as shots exploded all around. Jak felt a shove from the side and hit the ground hard. She saw stars as her leg flared up in blinding pain. Her ears were ringing, still tender from the earlier sounds, aching from this suddenly renewed assault of noise. Half-covering her was Cait, attempting to guard Jak whilst aiming blasts from her shotgun at any incoming threat. Jak could feel the pavement beneath her shaking and pounding, though that may have just been her head. Legs blurred as they flew past Jak, while others stood their ground or simply did not stand at all. Fresh blood rubied the ground. Jak saw more grey coats, uniform of the Watch, lying on this battlefield with the scraps of raiders. Even as she watched, more and more kept falling, not all of them wearing grey coats or raider armor. This wasn’t going to end, was it?

Not until everyone was dead.

Jak cast a glance up towards the balcony. Hancock was grinning, stolen gun discarded for his knife, standing off against the now-unarmed raider, presumably, at this point, the leader. Jak couldn’t remember the name, though she wasn’t sure if she was ever told it. It didn’t matter though, the bastard was crazy and didn’t deserve a name. Hancock, however, appeared even crazier, as he and the raider circled around the balcony. Occasionally the ghoul would make a false advance, laughing at the raider’s pointless reflexes. This continued for several minutes despite the bloodbath below, until finally the raider made a start, a weak one, for Hancock charged the raider with a shoulder, knocking him over the railing. He landed hard with a scream, and Jak swore she heard a crunch amidst the turmoil.

“What the fuck--” Cait had began, as she and much of the surrounding people, raiders and Watch alike, whirled around to the outlying commotion. It was as close to silence as it had been all day.

She didn’t think shit would get any crazier, but she was wrong.

Hancock jumped down the balcony, landing feet first in a crouch on the raider. The mayor appeared unscathed as he grappled the battered raider, quick to gain the advantage. With a growl he held his knife to the raider’s throat.

“Everyone listen the fuck up!” Hancock bellowed, his disfigured face even more terrifying as it twisted with rage. “Drop the fuckin’ weapons, now!”

Confusion swept the mass, civilians cowering where they could, Watch eyeing the raiders with a savage mistrust, and vice versa.

“I said now, dammit!” Hancock was truly wrathful, though Jak felt she knew why. In her short time at Goodneighbor, one thing had become evident: the people of Goodneighbor mattered to Hancock. If anything proved detrimental to their safety, he would bring his foot down in an instant.

This was beyond detrimental, and Hancock was beyond bringing a foot down.

The Watch guards reluctantly let their guns fall, but the raiders did not dare strike while their leader was so vulnerable. Still, they refused to let their guns go.

“All of you, assholes!” Hancock pressed the blade harder against the raider’s throat, spawning a streak of red from the sharp edge. The raider struggled to no avail.

“You wouldn’t!” jeered one of the surrounding raiders unconvincingly.

Hancock narrowed his eyes, glaring at the speaker. “I need all of my unarmed civilians to pick up a weapon, please.” His voice struggled to remain calm, cracking at the “please.” Sure enough, after nobody made a move, he snapped “Fucking c’mon!”

It was clear the people were stunned by their mayor in such a frenzied state. They knew he could prove fearsome, but this? This was new. Slowly, as if in a daze, those who were cowering shuffled uncertainly, picking up the weapons discarded from Watch and raiders alike.

“Don’t even fuckin’ try it!” snarled Hancock at a raider, mid-start, apparently about to attack one of the civilians.

Now armed, and afraid, the civilians stood, awaiting their next command. Some cringed timidly, sheepish looks on their faces as they eyed the now-furious raiders fearfully. Others appeared just as wrathful, ready to exact vengeance with these newly-turned tables.

“Alright, now I want my Watch, and my Watch only, to pick up the rest of the weapons. Go on,” he urged as he was met with blank stares and outcry from the raiders.

“Who do you think you--”

“Boss, what the fuck should we--”

“Let him fuckin’ go, man!”

“Uh, what’s goin’ on, mayor?” Asked one of the Watch guards through the surge of raider voices. He cautiously bent to pick up a gun, scanning his surroundings quickly.

“I’m taking things back under my control,” he growled. “Now, what we’re gonna do is turn all these nice weapons on our new friends. That’s right,” he said, an approving smile spreading across his face. “Good job.”

Now that everyone was armed, more and more of the civilians donned victorious smirks, triumphantly glaring down at the irate invaders.

Grinning menacingly now, Hancock forced the raider leader to look him in the eye, then continued. “This is my town, and my people won’t be fuckin’ slaughtered anymore. I don’t give one fuck who you’re looking for, you do not come in here thinking you’re boss. That ain’t how this works, you hear me?” The entire time he spoke, he shook the raider violently, emphasizing each point. “I said do you hear me?!”

The raider simply spat in the ghoul’s face.

Hancock laughed, sounding borderline insane. “What’s your name, man?”

The raider stared, eyes narrowed.

“What’s your fuckin’ name man, just tell me, c’mon. C’mon.” He pressed the knife even harder. “C’mon,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

“Jag,” the leader hissed.

“Jag, huh? Cool name. Shame you’re such a piece of shit, but that’s not uncommon. Tell me, Jag, if you were in my shoes, what would you be doing right now?” After a moment of no reply, he turned to his people. “What would you guys do if you were in my shoes?”

Shouts and cheers following the general lines of “Kill him!” erupted with primal vigor.

Feigning deep consideration, Hancock turned back to the raider leader. “Hm. Bright ideas all around, don’t you think? My favorite was ‘Gut his belly and let him walk out of here,’ who said that? Ah, you, doll, are sadistic. Nice.” He waved to a brutal-looking woman towards the back of the now-dangerous crowd.

“Jak, should we do something?” Cait was helping Jak up into a standing position. The tension clawing at Jak’s stomach reflected in Cait’s face, her eyes wide with fear.

Jak gave her a quick nod. “Help me forward?”

“What?”

“Please, Cait, I need to get closer.”

Cait obliged, though hesitant.

“Ah, Jak!” Hancock beckoned her to come forward when he saw her. “Hey look who it is, Jag-ass, remember her? Hey Jak, how do you think we should do this? You are the one they were hunting for, whatcha think?”

“I’ll go with them,” she announced, wearily as just about every head turned to her. She was exhausted, in pain, and heavy with guilt.

“Yeah that bit was damn good, I’m glad you did somethin’. Could’ve done without the ‘good girl’ stuff, Jag’s fuckin’ crazy, huh?”

“I’m serious.”

“After all of this?” Hancock laughed sardonically. “I don’t think so.”

At the same time, Cait was staring at Jak, shocked.

“Hancock, please,” Jak said, limping closer. “There’s been enough blood here, and it’s all because of me”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this is my fault too!” he retorted, his voice nearly giving out on him.

“But it’s me they’re after. If I never came here neither would they. None of your people would’ve been hurt.”

Hancock stared at her, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “We have them, though. Look at what we’ve done.”

“What you did,” she corrected. “Goodneighbor is your top priority. They’ll leave, and so will I.”

“Jak, you’re as much a part of Goodneighbor as any of us.”

Taken aback by the mayor’s kindness, and how bizarre it was considering the current situation, she couldn’t help but smile, though bitterly. “I don’t think I should be, though.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Cait interrupted. “Hancock has things in control and you still want to give yourself up?”

Jak nodded, rueful.

“But...what kind of...but you...then I’m coming with you!” she snapped, her eyes watering.

For fuck’s sake, did no one understand Jak was the reason all of this happened?! She couldn’t believe Cait and Hancock were being so...so….

So loyal.

She...wasn’t used to it at all.

“Cait, are...are you sure?”

“Not everyone’s out to get you, Jak,” Hancock offered, smiling. “We don’t all want to murder innocent and unarmed civilians just to get to you,” he added, giving Jag another forceful jerk.

Wincing at the mention of the whole ordeal, she sighed. “If we’re going, then...we better get going. It’ll be night soon, and I can’t go for long like this….”

“Well,” said Hancock, voice full of disdain. “Seems you’ve won, huh Jag?” And he let Jag go.

Cussing beneath his panting breath, he gingerly touched the thin line on his throat, beaded with blood.

“You’re not keepin’ your guns, though. I rather like ‘em,” Hancock went on.

“How the hell’re we supposed to make it back in one piece?” Jag demanded breathlessly.

“I dunno, maybe lose some pieces to begin with. I could help with that. Or maybe you’ll have to rely on Jak here.” Jag glanced at her, a trace of fear in his eyes. Hancock got uncomfortably close to Jag’s ear. “Good thing you didn’t kill her, eh?”

Nodding, a bit shaken, Jag barked orders at his unarmed, ridiculed men. “We’re leavin’ this shithole,” he declared. “Get around the girls and let’s get goin’.”

Grudgingly, the raiders all turned to trudge forward behind their limping leader, while the citizens of Goodneighbor had their weapons trained on them. But almost as soon as they turned, there was a flash of blood and steel.

“This is my shithole,” Hancock spat at Jag’s gurgling, bleeding corpse as it collapsed to the ground. “Don’t ever forget it.”

As much as Jak had tried to avoid it, deep down she was ecstatic knowing Jag got what he fucking deserved. Watching the crimson seeping from the paling flesh around his throat aroused that savage satisfaction she got from killing scum. The rage in Hancock’s eyes had already been giving her delighted chills, but this was by far the climax she’d been waiting for. It was at this point that she couldn’t pretend any longer, couldn’t lie to herself about exactly why she wanted to give up after everything. True, she felt the burden of guilt, more so than she ever had before. But she also knew being taken into a raider camp gave her an opportunity she’d sought after and would continue to seek for a while until she knew she’d destroyed the bases of Apex’s future regime. The Dishonored, allowing her into their camp? It was too easy. She’d be worried if she and Cait weren’t the only ones armed at the moment. Surely they could take on a whole gang together.  
The remaining Dishonored were not as pleased as Jak was at their leader’s death. However, as enraged as they were, they were also powerless, a whole town with guns ready to light them up. Jak failed to see why the raiders had any reason to actually take Jak and Cait back to their camp. She also failed to see why the raiders had any reason to travel out in the Wasteland longer than required, especially so close to dark.

No, if they were any smarter than they looked, the trip would be as quick, and painless, as possible.

* * * *

The sky was darkening, the last streaks of light burning out in the dusky shades of blue. With the failing light came a cold breeze, blowing hollowly through the stillness. Time dragged on, and it felt like hours of thick, aggressive silence until finally Jak heard voices.

She and Cait had been walking in the center of the Dishonored in the general direction they’d came from days ago. She realized this when they edged near the pond the behemoth of a supermutant lurked. He was nowhere to be seen, however.  
It felt funny, her and Cait carrying the only guns. She was a willing captive, surrounded by raiders, but somehow she was the one with the upper hand. After all, it was unlikely the raiders would be able to get the edge on her and Cait, even in their hindered state with Jak’s leg. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she may very well have leverage in the form of half a dozen pieces of shit that might actually mean something to someone at the Dishonored camp. The thought pleased her, enough to prove as a distraction, until she heard those voices.  
She recognized them instantly, and judging by the weary expressions on the others’ faces, they did too. Deeper, louder, and a little unintelligible, they heard the supermutants.  
The raiders muttered amongst themselves, painstakingly aware they were helpless in this situation. Jak caught scraps of “...really have to rely on her?” and “...no other choice,” and smiled to herself, enjoying her bizarre position of power over them.

“Sounds like two of ‘em, think we can take ‘em Jak?” Cait sounded on edge, and looked the part. She kept casting cautious looks over their shoulders, or to her side.

“Two on two, I think we got it,” Jak replied confidently.

“You can hardly move, and if I help you I can’t fight.”

“Guess we better get it done quickly then, huh?”

Cait sighed. “That’s not exactly what I meant. Maybe we should pass quietly.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jak assured with a wink.

Meanwhile the raiders were staring at the two, positively mutinous.

“So we gonna do somethin’ or what?” one of them said.

“Now that you mention it, yeah, yeah we are. Stay put.”

“Pretty fuckin’ bossy for a captive,” she snorted.

Jak ignored the raider, signaling to Cait to help her forward. They crept towards the voices as well as they could. It didn’t take much to find the hulking mutants. Their dark figures were lumbering a little ways ahead, around a corner of the ruined street. They appeared to be arguing amongst themselves, though about what Jak could not tell.

“Take ‘em out on the count of three?” Jak whispered, aiming her pistol at the back of one of the figure’s head.

“Guess it’s worth a shot,” she said.

Jak gave another wink, taking note of the pun.

Cait rolled her eyes, slipping her supportive arm from Jak’s waist to aim her own gun.

Jak stood, her injured leg trembling slightly, nodding each count to three.

They fired, definitely connecting their shots. But they weren’t kills yet. Two surprised, wounded supermutants were now turning to the girls. Without hesitation, Jak fired three, four, five more times in the general area of the mutant’s head. With speed and higher reflexes on her side, she didn’t cease fire until the inhumanly muscular body fell to the ground with a heavy thump. Cait, whose firearm was less accurate, made even shorter work of her target, each blast debilitating the mutant until it, too, was no more.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Jak gave a breathy chuckle. “See? That wasn’t so--”

And then it went black.

The two girls toppled, unconscious, with blood on their temples and bits of broken concrete in their hair. Around them stood the raiders, holding bricks and chunks of debris.

“Maybe this’ll at least please Apex…,” one of them scowled, his lip curled.


	13. Chapter 13

“I told you not to harm her!” came a man's cold voice, gruff with power, though muffled. It echoed, perhaps from a distance. “I told you not to harm  _ anyone _ !”

Several gunshots rang out, followed by an aggressive yell. Somewhere there was a low, rushing sound, smothering as it passed. Tighter, tighter, as if being crushed by a supermutant. 

That didn’t make much sense. Weren’t they dead?

“This is the last time you fail me,” that voice sneered, crackling with raw, natural authority. 

There were more shots, closer now, and Jak couldn’t help but let her eyes fly open. She grew suddenly aware of a cold, stiff feeling pressing against the back of her neck. Her head was pounding, each beat bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. Was that a ceiling she was looking at?

The rushing in her ears had subsided. Jak attempted to lift herself gingerly, only to find it impossible. Not only was the pain in her head severely incapacitating, her arms and legs were bound to whatever the cold surface was.

Wait.

Were those footsteps?

Carefully, Jak turned her head to her left, taking note of the wearing luster beneath her. It reminded her of one of those hospital tables, though that didn’t make any sense. Why would she be at a hospital?

Still, the faceless posters over the faded white-and-yellow-painted wall heavily implied medical origin. On her right she found a similar wall, as well as a smaller, thinner table. Upon the table was a bloody tray carrying equally bloody instruments, all of which bore the same faded sheen as what Jak laid upon. There was also, and with a sense of familiarity, a bullet, bent slightly, as well as some empty stimpak and med-x syringes.

Somewhere past her feet, a door opened noisily, as if being unlocked. She didn’t really know what she could do, so she simply closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness. Whoever this was, and wherever she was, she needed time to think.

And remember.

Jak thought she heard this newcomer sniff, as if...scenting a meal. It was a thought that gave Jak’s stomach an unpleasant start. A warmth crept towards her, a presence not unlike an animal. It grew, closer, on her face now. Then the smell: musky sweat, blood, traces of alcohol. It exhumed over her with the tiniest whistling noise, then came the beastial snuffling, accompanied by the same faint whistle. 

Jak felt her eyelids flutter, and instantly wished they hadn’t.

“Ah,” the voice from earlier drawled, menacing and cruel. “You’re awake. I thought I smelled something.”

Jak refused to open her eyes. This sounded like a nightmare, something beyond reality. Everything felt wrong, every part of her body felt it. She’d never heard this voice before, but something in her never wanted to hear it again, or smell this stench, or feel this presence.

“Come on, open your eyes,” it said, sounding much like someone attempting to coerce a child. 

Jak shook her head before she even realized it. She wouldn’t give this man any satisfaction.

A heavy, growling sigh wafted the odor over her face once more. “Don’t make me open that leg up for you again, honey. I just had them fix it for you.”

She bristled at the implication, and the name, more than the actual threat. But at the mention of it, she noticed her leg, although still aching, was far more bearable than before.

“Now,” all traces of patience gone from the voice. “ _ Open your eyes _ .”

Jak could take it no longer. 

She opened her eyes, wishing to close them instantly.

No less than a foot above her was a face unlike anything she’d ever seen. A man, monstrous, wearing a crooked, ugly grin. Jak noticed his teeth appeared longer and sharper than normal. Framing his grin was a short but wild scruff of hair on his chin, edging up over his cracked lips and along his brutish, squared jaw. It was a similar color to the pelts of the vicious dogs she so despised, the same as the greasy mess tossed over his head with roughly shaven sides. His nose had clearly been broken before as it sat aggressively askew between two heavy brows, of which the bone protruded over the crooked bridge. 

But the worst part were the eyes, hungry, mocking, dirt brown but with a predatorial golden-yellow gleam. 

“See? Was that so hard?” the man said, straightening upwards until he stood, towering over her restrained body. He moved to those restraints. 

Jak felt him messing with them, and though she could barely lift her head to see, she could tell he was undoing them, by the slacking pressure. He released her arms the same way.

“Submission,” he said as he finished, “is rewarded. Resistance-”

“I didn’t submit,” spat Jak. Who did he think he was? Just some more raider scum thinking he was fucking top dog. 

Not this time.

“Yet somehow you still obeyed, however easy it may’ve been. That deserves rewarded,” he gestured to her freed limbs, that sharp-toothed smile still splayed across his face.

Jak opened her mouth to say something defiant, perhaps retort she opened her eyes on her own accord, but he continued.

“Anyways, I’ve technically rewarded you twice now. I simply could’ve left that leg to fester. But I was feeling...mmm...generous. You didn’t earn that one, honey, so consider yourself lucky.”

She already hated this man, his condescending manner, as if she were below the dirt beneath his feet. She forgot she had feared his presence just moments ago.

“I don’t need your favors,” she sneered, her grey eyes narrowed into a piercing stare.

The man sighed again. “You obviously don’t know who I am, do you? I think you’d reconsider how you speak to me if you were aware.”

“I don’t give one fuck who you are, I don’t owe you shit.”

“No? I think that’s where you’re wrong.”

Jak was tired of this asshole. Steadying herself, she tried to sit up, fighting the stabs of pain as they struck. Shakily, she slipped off the surface, a medical table, with leather straps bolted to it where her arms and legs had rested. The floor beneath her crunched as she landed on tile covered with debris. A quick glance told her none of her belongings were in the room with her, no weapons, armor, anything.

And neither was Cait.

“Where’s Cait?” she demanded from the man, who she could now see clearly.

Aside from his beastly appearance, he was a mountain of a man, bigger and more muscular than normal. He wore a large pair of pants, sleek though dirty, held around his waist with a large belt and tucked into heavy and equally dirty boots. Around his neck was a...a human jaw, tied on either side to some kind of cord. Jak blanched at the realization. He wore nothing over his torso except two straps, crossing over his chest to his shoulders, each bearing a different guard. One was a plain leather piece, plates of metal fixed to it, adorned with various teeth, some of which appeared human. Jak wondered briefly how the teeth were stuck there, but her attention lied with the wicked, curved horn protruding from the other strap. It was no doubt that of a deathclaw, though such a beast was no easy foe. Perhaps this man proved a match for it. Resenting the thought, she couldn’t keep herself from admitting it was an impressive display.

“The redhead? She’s fine. Now that I think about it, keeping her alive was your third reward. I’ve no idea what’s gotten into me,” he chuckled roughly, “but it’s gotta stop.”

“Tell me where she is, I want all of my things back, and then I’m leaving.”

The man acted as if he was considering this, tilting his head and searching the ceiling absently. Then he brought her back to his attention and shook his head with a mocking grimace. 

“I’ll do it myself, then,” she growled, and pushed past the man, forcing down the dread that threatened to stop her in her tracks. Unfortunately, something else did.

“Actually,” the man said, as he swung a massive arm around Jak’s shoulders with the casualness of a friend. “I need to apologize. And then we need to talk. Shall we?”

The weight of his arm didn’t feel undeliberate at all. She couldn’t object, nor could she attempt to resist the contact. As it was, the strength of which he pulled her along by his side was enough to make her shoulders feel bruised. She could attempt to duck from him but she had no weapons, no idea where to go, and no Cait. 

No, she was just going to have to allow this man to steer her around.

“See,” he began, as he shuttled her down a dark corridor, similarly tiled, painted, and trashed. “None of what went down at Goodneighbor should’ve gone down. It was never--”

“It was Jag’s fault for attacking fuckin’ innocent people!” shot Jak.

“If you’d  _ just  _ let me finish speaking, you’d know what I’m going to say,” he scolded exasperatedly.   
  


“It doesn’t matter to me, I _ just _ want my friend and my belongings.” 

“And I  _ just _ want you to  _ fuckin _ ’ listen to me,” he snarled at her, suddenly devoid of any pretense of cold patience. Sighing, he shook his head, adopting his original drawl. “Jag fucked up. His orders were to find you, take you, and leave. No one was supposed to be hurt, or killed, just terrified. Submission, that’s all that was needed.

Jag didn’t understand that, and it cost him his life, from what his men told me. A shame, but necessary.”

There was a pause as they continued down the hall, stepping over bodies that resembled the Dishonored raiders, turning into an elevator that lie at the end of it. The man practically punched the call button. The doors opened with a discordant chime, and they entered. It was a tight fit, considering the size of the man. Strangely she was reminded of a supermutant, but not quite.

“So I apologise, for that event. It  _ will  _ be dealt with.”

What was this guy gonna do? Acting all high and mighty, like he was the leader.

“However, I understand you’ve infiltrated some of my territory.”

What?

“Taken out some of my men. And women. My people. Specifically mine, one of them.”

Wait, was this guy…?

“I don’t appreciate that, honey, not one bit.”

Jak couldn’t meet his eyes. This couldn’t actually be him….

“Are you the one who took out the Reavers?” His breath was a hot wind into her ear. “They went missing before the Zone happened. Seems like my disappearances are your work.”

Jak remained still, silent.

“Unless you deny it?” He inquired, though she knew he was only toying with her. “Maybe we got the wrong girl...a girl who willingly allows herself to be taken to the camp of the people that murdered a couple dozen innocents, if not more.” He was pulling her closer, as if waiting for her to look at him. “Why is that?” he asked in a crude murmur.

The doors opened, and she saw it, saw the source of it all, her rage, her pain, the start of everything. The red draped over the torso, the chains wrapped around, the straps holding the half-skull mask. 

“Father,” it said obediently as they passed. 

Jak refused to move, despite the weight of the man pressing on her. She remained stationary, processing everything that seemed so suddenly clear.

“You’re….”

“The meanest son of a bitch out here, honey, and you best not forget it.”

She turned, eyes burning into Apex. 

He stood in a different light now, one she wouldn’t be able to forget. The face, this was the face she’d longed to destroy for so long…but why here? Now? What did he want from her? He could’ve killed her already, if he wanted to….

“I don’t know who you are or what you’ve got against me,” he began, but he, once more, didn’t get to finish.

“ _ You don _ ’ _ t know _ ?” Jak breathed, fighting back the blazing tears threatening to spill from her eyes. 

“No, I don’t,” he returned flatly. He turned to the New God guarding the elevator. “Watch her,” and then he walked away.

Paying attention as he left, she noticed other raiders on this floor, lounging on worn sofas or gathered around fires giving off harsh smells, chattering casually or cleaning guns and sharpening knives. 

Living. 

She did appear to be at the Dishonored camp, which was definitely in a hospital. She could tell, by the old decor, the medical tools scattered in random places, the disintegrating papers strewn across the tile floor. The dingy hall was marked with various sets of doors. To the side was a thick wooden door, presumably an entrance. 

But Apex, Apex, why was he here? 

She saw him approaching, carrying her backpack in one hand and her pistol in the other.

“Alright, now where is she?” Jak demanded, adamant for the return of her companion. 

“You have to earn her back,” said Apex, simply. 

“Are you fu--”

“This reward won’t be wasted. Prove to me your worth and you can have your girl back.”

She couldn’t bargain with the reason her parents were murdered in their sleep, the reason the Commonwealth was in more danger than was normal. She couldn’t humor him this way.

But Cait…without her….

“What do I do,” she muttered.

“Something that was going to happen sooner or later.” He offered her her own pistol. “Kill them. All of them.”

She noticed the New God stir uncomfortably.

“Not him, the God’s off-limits. But these Dishonored? They’ve earned their title, time and time again. This is the last time. Make sure of that.”

Jak was thoroughly perplexed. He wanted her to kill raiders that were working under him...he was giving her that power. A power she was going to give herself, had she not been knocked out, outsmarted, somehow. Why was this so easy? Any other time, she’d be glad for such a free shot, an open window to climb through. This window might have a mine hidden on the other side. There was something off about the lord of raiders telling her to do his dirty work.

Still, she needed Cait, and she’d do anything to get her by her side once more. Reluctantly, she grabbed her gun from Apex’s extended hand, feeling the cold, familiar weight of it as it pressed into her sweating palm. Her heart threatened to escape from her throat as she wondered, wondered what she could do with this opportunity. 

And then it hit her. It was so obvious, so damn easy it scared her. Is this what she had waited for all her life? What she had suffered through? For  _ this _ ?

She couldn’t stop the deadly grin she felt growing on her face, the anticipation seeping into her blood like venom. Carefully, she raised her pistol, Apex watching with reserved amusement. She aimed it at the back of some raider, stirring a pot over a fire. She took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.


	14. Chapter 14

There was a moment of shock as the camp stood still, suddenly frozen. No one knew where the shot came from, only that it crashed off the walls in every direction. Heads turned, frantically searching for the source of the noise, but it wasn’t long until they found it. Apex wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, and neither was Jak, standing next to him, gun in hand. Apex made a dismissive noise and strode away, laying himself on an old sofa that whined beneath his weight and closing his eyes, as if intending to sleep there. 

She ran behind a corner, seeking cover as the Dishonored began to rally themselves against her, not fully aware that this assault was urged on by their higher power, and not some chance invasion. Bullets ricocheted off the concrete wall, chunks of it flying everywhere. Jak felt the adrenaline surge through her body, urging her to fight back, nevermind how ridiculous these odds were. This was just something else she needed to do. She couldn’t afford to die, not now. 

And Cait, she _ needed _Cait back. This was the only way.

Bracing herself, she let out an aggressive cry as she threw herself past the corner, shooting as fast as she could while still maintaining some loose form of accuracy. Narrowly dodging the storm of bullets that responded to her, she crouched behind a barricade, dark green and painted with a symbol she’d never seen before: a crude red skull with little pointed horns and a black “X” slashed over it. 

Jak popped above the barricade long enough to place a shot on a raider’s chest, but the armor she wore deflected the damage, the force of the impact visibly shaking her. Cursing, Jak sank back down. 

This was going to be awhile.

  
  


“Not too bad,” Apex drawled lazily, eyes still closed. “Not as fast as I had hoped, but it’s over regardless.”

“I don’t need your praise,” lashed Jak, panting. Her head hadn't yet stopped its wrathful outcries. “Just give me Cait.”

The camp was silent. All that could be heard was the steady crackling of the fires, the groaning creaks of the building, a radio in the distance, and, though faintly, Apex’s slow, whistling breathing. Jak had eliminated all of them, unless there were some hiding. They were useless though. What they did didn’t matter anymore, not to Jak, not to Apex, not to anyone.

Jak pointed the pistol at Apex. This was it. She could do it now and it would be over, it would finally be--

His eyes opened, peering at her, not at all perturbed by the weapon in his face.“You don’t want to do that.” He groaned lazily as his massive form sat up from his relaxed state. He sidled away without a glance at the bodies littering the floor, only stopping to chuckle at a puddle of blood he stepped in.

Looking around, Jak hadn’t realized how many Dishonored she had actually killed. It was evident that they had been a bigger group than the Reavers, maybe triple their size. But they were, still, unimpressive. Their bodies lay crumpled and still in various positions. Some draped over upstairs balconies, others toppled over each other. Jak looked down at herself. Flecks of blood were thrown across her body, spattering the metal and leather she wore. Her already-filthy boots were covered in blood and left the ground with a squelching noise as she walked.

She paused, attempting to hear Apex’s returning footsteps, accompanied by Cait’s, but she couldn’t. She was alone. Even the New God had vanished, somewhere. With an irritated sigh Jak walked up the broader hallway, away from the elevator and entrance. She passed the sets of doors, peering into the open ones and testing those that were shut. None were particularly interesting, until the last door. It was locked, which was strange to her considering none of the ones before had been locked at all. Deciding it had been awhile since she’d picked a lock, she took a couple of crooked bobby pins from her pocket and wedged them into the keyhole. After some poking and prodding she felt the mechanism ease up. She pulled the door open, then choked on the stench that assailed her nostrils.

Within the room was a pile of black ashes. They were still smoldering, and bones and chunks of charred meat were half-buried beneath them. Standing atop the mound was a female mannequin, her naked and featureless body turned towards the door. Jak was...disturbed, to say the least. The mannequin's faceless smile made Jak's skin crawl. Something about the lifeless statue gloating upon the charred gore dug a deep pit in her stomach. Fighting to tear her eyes from the freakish sight, she turned away. She was heading back down the hallway when she heard a gunshot and yelling.

“Cait!” she cried. If he hurt her….

But no, she could unmistakably hear Cait’s voice clashing with Apex’s.

Jak ran as fast as she could, bolting down the hallway with her pistol ready. She head down the side hall she saw Apex go through, following it until she saw a pair of doors that led to a similar room that Jak had been in. There was Cait, forced against the wall by Apex’s strangely muscular arm crushing her throat. Her feet were off the ground a little, waving frantically as she kicked at Apex, but he showed no sign of pain. 

Not yet. 

Before it clicked in her mind what she was doing, Jak shot Apex. Once, twice, three times, then a blur of movement and she was on the ground, face-first. Something crunched. She could tell it was her nose, the agonizing pain flaring up in the center of her face. Her mouth was covered in a thick, wet, metallic-tasting coating. Spit and blood and sweat, all pouring down her face. She turned her head, her cheek against the dirty linoleum. She heard Cait retching, spitting. Then something was pushing on the side of her head, forcing her cheek flat against the floor. Jak squirmed, though she knew it was him. A harsh, hot wind blew in her ear with every syllable he spoke.

“Don’t ever think you can fuckin’ take me, honey. I...will..._ break you _,” he growled, flecks of spit dotting Jak’s ear.

Jak roared and reached for her knife in her belt, but her wrist was seized so tightly she was surprised it didn’t snap. 

“Ungrateful bitch, you’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet!”

“Do it,” Jak hissed wetly. “Fuckin’ monster, _ do it _! Do it like you did my parents!”

And there was his face, leering in hers. “You’re telling me my Gods missed you?” 

What?

Jak couldn’t help but feel dumbstruck. What was he saying?

“Damn, no wonder you’re such a little ingrate. You were never Baptized--”

A blast, a cry of pain, Apex was on the ground next to Jak. She rolled to her hands and knees as she made to stand up. A hand seized her arm, pulling her up. A familiar touch, rough but not without tenderness. She looked up into Cait’s furious eyes. 

“Serves ya right, ya piece of shite!” Cait bellowed at Apex’s bleeding form. 

He was struggling to stand up, his back covered in blood. The leather straps crossing his torso couldn’t have protected him from the blast of Cait’s shotgun. 

He was hurt, but not enough. 

Jak staggered over, retrieving her knife from the floor. She wanted to make him feel this. 

He laughed, despite slipping in a puddle of his own blood. “You think I can’t take this, honey?” He shook his head, smiling, that predatorial intensity on his face. “You’re wrong.”

“Shut _ up _!” Jak yelled, slamming her foot into his jaw. 

Apex fell on his back, still howling with savage amusement.

Jak brought her foot down again, and again. His nose snapped too, as he choked on the red flood. Again and again.

“Jak!” Cait was shouting from her side. “Jak just leave him!”

“_ No!” _Jak bellowed. She aimed another kick, but Apex caught it with a wet, bemused growl. 

In a move strangely reminiscent of Jak’s takedown of the New God at the Combat Zone, he pulled her down and threw himself over her, pinning her between his thick legs like solid, crushing rock. He raised both of his fists over his head, ready to crush her skull. Jak’s arm slipped free, slick with the fluids coating her flesh, and she lashed her knife into the man’s eye. A frenzied scream broke from Apex as he lurched back. He reached for the knife, though too quickly, his heavy hand only pushing it deeper. 

Jak stood over him. “Next time, make sure they kill me, too.” And she brought her foot down, slowly, torturously, driving the knife deeper and deeper into Apex’s eye until she could no longer. 

Cait was shouting protests, trying to push Jak, but she resisted, shoving her lover away. Apex screamed and writhed beneath her, his hands pointlessly grabbing at her, but he couldn’t throw her off.

Jak _ refused _ to let this end before she was ready. The only thing she could hear was him, but it was strange, as if he had been shouting down a tunnel. Even Cait sounded more like the wind, distant and unimportant. 

Apex’s movements slowed, his screams quieting, until he laid there, still, silent, and dead.

Staring upon his corpse, Jak was shaking. From excitement, adrenaline, nerves, she couldn’t tell. She felt a touch on her arm, but it didn’t matter. The voice calling her name didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that she was alive, still. Because he was gone. Yet somehow she didn’t believe it. Here was his lifeless body, yet it felt surreal. Surely it shouldn’t have been that easy. This is what everybody feared? Or did they fear the way Diamond City feared? Because of ignorance? Jak knew what the world was like. Apex was like every other mad man thinking he held power no one else possibly could.

So why did she feel so uncertain?

“Jak!” 

“_ What _?!” she demanded, eyes ablaze with the last embers of her fury.

“We need to go,” Cait intoned coldly, clearly not impressed by Jak’s aggressive response. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

Jak cast her gaze back to the disfigured corpse. “I think so,” she barely whispered.

“Good,” Cait said, crossing her arms. “Let’s go.”

Jak didn’t notice Cait’s tears as the two left the corpse-filled hospital.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

“Where are we going?” Cait muttered, peering up at the cold moon in the shadowed sky.

Jak wasn’t sure. She couldn’t think straight, still exhilarated. The sight of the moon only added to that, for now they were alone, at night, with no idea of where they were. The moonlight illuminated just enough to tease the sensation of being able to see, while still denying any real guidance.

“We can’t go back to your place, can we?” Cait continued without regard to Jak’s potential answer. “I mean, how far is it? Where even are we?” She added, peering up at the lifeless hospital.

Jak searched the horizon vaguely for the light of Diamond City. The closer to the city, the better shot they had at making it home. She saw it, the familiar haze of pale yellow over the ruined skyline, but it was a small halo against the inky sky. Meaning it would be awhile until she and Cait reached home.

Cait sighed, following Jak’s eyes to the glow of the City. “Let’s just go back to Goodneighbor.”

Jak rounded on her, wincing as her head throbbed in protest. Her nose was still broken, her face still covered with blood. Cait fared better, though her throat was purple with bruises.

“After everything that happened today?” Jak asked in disbelief. “What makes you think they’ll be all open arms after--”

“Hancock said you were one of them,” Cait replied simply.

He had, Jak remembered, shown a strange amount of loyalty. The events that had transpired seemed more like an old nightmare, though the various aches and pains of her body begged to differ. 

“Well...there’s stuff we need back at home, supplies and...and clothes and...you know!”

Cait scoffed slightly. “Jak, we can buy all that. Or work for it, or...something. We’ll figure it out.”

“I can’t go back, Cait.”

“Then I hope you find your way home,” Cait muttered. “‘Cause I am.”

It was those words that made Jak really hear Cait, the disappointment and exhaustion in her voice. She wanted Cait to be happy more than anything. She would do anything for her, she really would. 

She couldn’t have known that Cait was bluffing, that her partner wouldn’t leave her alone in the middle of the night. Nor would Cait dare going on her own through the foreboding city. All Jak knew was that she wouldn’t lose Cait, not after all that had happened.

“Let’s go then,” she sighed. “I have no idea where to go, though.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” Cait said, chuckling unconvincingly. It was clear the two were on edge. 

“I suppose we could search for somewhere to stay for the night,” Jak offered. “I don’t know where but...I’m sure we can find somewhere.”

  
  


Somewhere turned out to be the place neither of them felt particularly keen on sleeping at. Jak regained almost instantly an adequate sense of direction when she saw the familiar string lights, but she knew where that was and she hated taking Cait back. 

“Uh-uh, no bloody way,” Cait scowled. “We’ll find somewhere else, there’s a building back there that’ll do just fine.”

“With half the wall missing?”

“Jak.” Cait’s tone was urgent but final.

“I’ll check to see if it’s empty.”

Cait rolled her eyes with an irritated growl.

“We’re going back to Goodneighbor tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” she snapped. “Let’s just do this so we can get some damn sleep.”

The foyer was dark and still when they walked in, devoid of the prisoners that had been there previously. No sound came from within the theater, whose doors were slightly ajar. Peering in as they approached, Jak didn’t see anyone, not even the bodies from before. Dust swirled in the damp air, visible only briefly between streams of moonlight that gazed beyond holes in the roof. There was a distinct smell of mold in the place, stronger than Jak had ever remembered.

“Seems empty,” informed Jak with a shrug.

Cait deeply sighed. “We have to make sure no one’s downstairs.”

“There’s a floor below this?”

“More like a basement,” replied Cait, heading towards a doorway on the left of the stage. “But yeah.”

“Huh,” Jak said, too exhausted to find anything else to say. “Guess we oughta check.”

The two headed down a set of stairs leading to a pitch blackness Jak assumed was the basement. Cool, musty air creeped its way from the darkness to greet them. Silence had not yet left their side. 

“You think anyone’s down here?” Jak whispered, unsure of how far Cait was.

“Only one way to find out,” Cait muttered.

There was a pause, then a sound that cracked like thunder assaulted Jak’s ears.

“No one here,” Cait said, though her voice sounded muffled.

“You could’ve warned me!” Jak cried, her ears ringing from the gunshot.

“Worked, didn’t it? If anyone was here we woulda heard them shite their pants, or try to kill us. Maybe both.”

Jak couldn’t argue, nor could she bite back the smile Cait put on her face. “Let’s just find some light.”

“Already on it,” came Cait’s voice from deeper in the room. Her footsteps were slow, shuffling. Once or twice there was a soft impact, followed by a short “ouch”. Then there was some fumbling, a metallic click, and a small, warm glow came to life, illuminating a doorway. Cait strode from the doorway carrying a half-melted candle. Her face was smiling, but the flickering flame beneath it cast solemn, dancing shapes across it.

Looking around the room through the dim light, Jak saw shelves stacked with metal crates and boxes. The floor was made of concrete covered in a thick coat of dust and dirt, and the walls were made from dull brown and equally covered bricks. However, Cait stood upon a grimy wood paneled floor that appeared to lead into two smaller rooms, one of them being the one she’d just came from. Next to Jak, two mechanical lifts stood to one side, blocked off by chain-link gates. She assumed these led to the stage when powered. 

“We can sleep in here if you ever get tired of standin’ around, you know?”

Jak chuckled to herself. From the corner of her eye she could see Cait gesturing to the room beside her. “I’m not sure,” Jak told her. “I thought I might just crash right here.” Jak heard a quiet breath of a laugh from Cait, but nothing more. 

Cait entered the room without a glance in Jak’s direction.

“Hey,” Jak called as she followed Cait. “Is this where you used to sleep? Down here?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn, I don’t think I could’ve done it. I’ve always been outside, since...well pretty much always except the time I was in Diamond City.”

“Eh, we do what we have to,” Cait muttered as she dragged a mattress from the corner of the room. 

Jak stared at Cait, then looked at the wall to her left, which was lined with mirrors. Within one was her ghostly reflection, appearing in the wavering light of the candle to grow from the shadows. The one next to it held Cait’s, her shadow shuddering on the ceiling and wall above and beside her physical form. 

Jak pulled another mattress and set it next to Cait’s. “You okay?”

“Are you, Jak?”

“I...think so.”

“Hm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not okay, and I don’t think you are either.”

“Cait, what’re you--”

“That was fuckin’ sick, what you did to Apex.”

“You really give a shit what happened to him?” Jak asked, exasperated.

“I give a shite that my girlfriend fuckin’ lost it.”

“In case you don’t remember,” Jak threw her hands up, “that fucker was the reason my parents are dead!”

“And what are you?”

“Last time I checked, alive.”

“No, what _ are _you, Jak?” Cait’s eyes were dark with emotion, glistening in the candlelight. “And who?”

“I don’t really--”

“Me neither.” Cait curled up on her side and turned her back from Jak. 

Guilt swelled in her chest, threatening to drown Jak. She didn’t regret anything she did. Not...not really. Why was Cait so upset? Apex was gone. His men would scatter, easier targets. She’d finally done it, what she’d waited for all of her life.

Still, she wasn’t sure what to think, what to feel. Something still felt...hollow. It was probably just more guilt, knowing Cait wasn’t at all happy with her. Jak tried her best for Cait and now she felt like she’d somehow failed. She paused for a moment, trying to see where Cait was coming from. Yeah, she’d killed Apex. She’d made sure it hurt.

He deserved it. 

So what was the problem?

Somewhere Jak could hear the dying words Badge had spoken to her:

“_ What makes you so...so different from us _?”

“Everything,” Jak said aloud, without realizing she had. 

Cait glared at Jak over her shoulder.

“What?” Jak asked.

But Cait only shook her head and laid back down.

Jak decided she just needed to sleep, and that Cait needed the same. The last couple of days had been intense, and both girls were definitely just stressed. Besides, she knew she was overthinking things. She’d not doubted her actions before, why should she now? 

Because Cait does, Jak thought. 

Sighing, she attempted to get comfortable on the molded mattress. She missed the warmth of Cait’s body, how it pressed so easily into hers. The way she’d wrap her arms around Cait, holding her close. Admittedly she was afraid to let go. Even now, though she knew things would be better tomorrow, she wasn’t used to being on her own.

Jak smiled sadly to herself. It was a strange thought, how quickly she got used to Cait’s presence in a little less than a month, versus almost a whole lifetime of being alone. She couldn’t go back. No matter what happened, Jak couldn’t lose Cait. 

The knot in her stomach was there, but there was no laughing to unwind it this time.

She rest her arm away from her, reaching for Cait, trying to be as close as possible.

* * * *

Sometime through the night, Cait had found her way back into Jak’s arms. She too missed the gesture, and despite how disappointed she was in Jak, she couldn’t turn away from her. 

She needed Jak, and she hoped she would never regret it.

  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

She saw the cage, the strange red bird inside of it, sleeping peacefully. Jak smiled as she approached it. It was still curled into itself, one wing hiding its face, its chest rising, falling. As Jak watched it, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. Why was she crying? There was nothing wrong. 

But even as that thought came to life, she became aware of how far she was still from the cage. She walked faster, looking down at her feet, the ground beneath them. She was moving, yet the cage still felt far, so far....

She ran, as fast as she could, calling out to the bird. It woke up, fixing its doleful green eyes on her. 

Such a familiar green….

Gasping, she bolted up, disturbing Cait in the process.

“What is it?” Cait demanded, regarding Jak with concern.

“I...just...just a dream,” she panted.

“Musta been one hell of a dream.” Cait said, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Jak threw herself back on the mattress. “I wish I knew.”

Cait laid on her side, her arm bent to support her head. She was facing Jak, looking over the girl’s face in the candlelight.

Jak stared up at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the steel rafters holding up the floor above them. 

“I worry about you, Jak.”

She looked at Cait. Her emerald eyes spoke of sadness, her face heavy with it. It was strange, hearing those words. Nobody had worried about Jak since...well, a long time. For a moment, she forgot what had happened. Why she’d done it. How she’d done it. All she remembered was Cait, there beside her. 

“That wasn’t you back there in the hospital,” Cait continued. “He was done. We could’ve left. He would’ve bled to death. He was--”

“Done, I get it….” Jak sat back up, pulling her hands down her face with a sigh. “Who am I, Cait?”

“I told you, you got me out of my cage. That means the world to me.”

“But what else? What past that?”

“You’re someone who gives a shite, who I give a shite about.”

“I thought you didn’t know who I was,” Jak retorted, albeit unfairly.

“You know I was just angry,” Cait reached for Jak’s hand but Jak pulled away.

“Then try to understand so was I.” Jak’s voice cracked. “My entire life led up to that moment. It was boiling inside of me since I learned not to be afraid anymore. That was the replacement.” She turned to Cait. “Cait, I’m nothing without you. I was nothing before you. I don’t want to be nothing now. But please, please just...understand.” Jak felt strange, admitting her vulnerability like that. It was...refreshing, being honest with Cait and especially herself.

There was a silence, as both girls stared at the dwindling candle. Jak wondered how long it would last, how much longer until the flames died out and left her in the dark again.

After awhile, Jak sighed and laid back on her mattress.“I’m going back to sleep.” A warm touch cradled her back as Cait’s arms wrapped around her.

Cait kissed her cheek. “I understand,” she whispered in her ear.

* * * *

The return journey to Goodneighbor was surprisingly free of mutants and ghouls and whatever else may have otherwise lurked. Clouds blotted out the sun, protecting the girls from the scornful rays. Compared to their first trip, it was much, much easier. 

“It helps when you’re not being chased by a big fuckin’ supermutant,” Cait joked along the way, scratching her wrist through the bracer.

Jak chuckled, peering at the rigid way Cait smiled, the violet splotches on her throat. It was true, the unnerving pond had remained still as they passed, though the monster’s presence could still be felt. Several times, Jak had glanced anxiously over her shoulder, making sure it was still below the surface. She swore she saw its head just poking from the water, enough to stare as they passed, but she didn’t dare look back again after that.

  
  


“‘Ey, hold it right there!” a grey-clad Watch guard barked as the girls approached the door to Goodneighbor. To his right was another, and behind the wall, it appeared two makeshift watchtowers had been built, each stationed with a guard. “Whaddya want?”

“Uh...in?” Cait replied sardonically.

“Yeah, smart ass, I can see that.” The guard rolled his eyes. “What’s your business here?”

“Just comin’ back to visit the mayor.”

“As if,” the guard on the left sneered. 

“Wait a minute,” the first guard paused, narrowing his eyes at Jak. “Ain’t you that one the raiders were after?”

The second guard raised his gun. “She is, what’re you doing back here?”

“I just need to talk to the mayor,” Jak muttered.

“Not happening, sweetheart,” the first one laughed. 

Jak pulled her pistol, training it right between his eyes. The two guards on the tower both had their guns on her now. Cait had her shotgun ready beside her.

“Don’t really think you should do that,” said the second guard as he pressed the barrel of his tommy gun into Jak’s back. 

Suddenly, the door opened with a loud creak. Standing there was Fahrenheit, taking in the scene with a fierce gaze. 

“Easy, all of you,” she addressed the guards sternly. “That goes for you, too,” she added with a pointed look at Jak.

Slowly, all the weapons were lowered, and Fahrenheit gestured with a nod of her head that the girls follow her.

“Are you ready?” Cait asked as Jak took a deep breath.

Jak nodded, not entirely sure what else she’d be met with. Cait grabbed Jak’s hand, though it lacked some of her usual warmth and reassurance. 

They followed Fahrenheit to the state house, up to the room Hancock spent his time in. Along the way, Jak noticed people casting paranoid looks at her, or muttering between themselves. She perfectly understood why, passing occasional bloodstains or bullet casings leftover from the other day’s conflict.

  
  


“Jak!” Hancock greeted her with open arms as she entered the room. “I’m glad you’re back, the hell happened?”

“Too much,” she sighed. 

“That so? C’mon, sit and we can talk about it.” 

Jak and Cait obliged, resuming the familiar position across from the mayor. 

“Anything I can get you gals?”

Jaks eyes wandered over to Fahrenheit, sitting in her corner broodingly. She was staring at a chess board, its pieces scattered about. She caught Jak’s eye just as Cait answered Hancock’s offer. 

“Ya got any booze?”

Hancock just laughed, pulling some bottles from somewhere beneath the table. “Do I?”

“Thanks,” Cait said as she grabbed two of them, handing one to Jak. 

“I’m good,” Jak returned. 

With a shrug, Cait kept it for herself.

“So, what’s the story?” inquired Hancock.

Jak mulled it over for a second, considering what parts to leave out. But looking at Hancock, his warm expression and the way his eyes invited her to open up, she decided not to leave any of it out. She explained how she woke up in the Dishonored camp, the brief conversation she had with Apex, everything that followed resulting in Apex’s death and the girls’ trip back to Goodneighbor. The only details she _ did _ leave out were those conversations she and Cait had.

When Jak finished, Hancock sat back, one arm crossed while holding his cheek in his other hand. He looked thoroughly perplexed, opening his mouth to talk several times, cycling through several confused expressions that became so comical, Jak questioned if the mayor was simply acting. 

“So Apex,” finally began Hancock, leaning forward, “had both of you in his grasp. And then you just?” He threw the fingers of both his hands open as if the motion made perfect sense. “Killed him?”

“I...think so,” Jak nodded. 

“What do you mean you think so?” 

“I mean I shoved a knife six inches into his fuckin’ eye socket, so I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

Hancock tilted his head, nodding. “Yeah, that’ll probably do it.”

“So what now?” Cait piped up.

“Well everything should fall apart, right?” said Jak. “Without Apex, all the other groups will be left to do as they want.”

“Still a threat, but not as big of one if they’re not working together,” Hancock agreed.

“That means we can stay here,” Cait turned eagerly to Jak. Jak saw real excitement on her face.

“If here will have me,” scoffed Jak. From the corner of the room she saw Fahrenheit shift uncomfortably in her chair.

“‘Course we’ll have ya, Jak. The people will see I trust you, and it might take them a while but they’ll start to trust you, too.”

“I hope,” she said half-heartedly. She didn’t normally care what anyone thought of her, but something about Goodneighbor was different. Maybe she was guilty, or maybe Goodneighbor was as close to a home as she’d gotten in a long time. 

* * * *

Jak had trouble sleeping that night, the unease settling uncomfortably in her gut. 

“Don’t think about it too much, y’know?” Cait had groggily reassured her before passing out. 

But that was it, wasn’t it? How do you _ not _think about something like that? Jak supposed this was the price for emotions. Sometimes they were simply there, out of your control. She couldn’t say she cared for the people of Goodneighbor, but she felt for them. Perhaps the one common factor between all people in the fucked up world Jak knew was that they all wanted to survive. At the end of the day, that's all anyone wants, isn’t it? Goodneighbor was most certainly under the impression that Jak cost people their lives, and she wasn’t particularly inclined to disagree. 

Hancock vouched for her though. That guy put a lot of trust in Jak, and she wasn’t sure why. But he did, and she couldn’t deny it truly meant a lot. Right after Cait, Jak wouldn’t ask for anyone else to be by her side other than Hancock. It was funny, how quickly such relationships were forged. Bonds needed built on first impressions and gut feelings rather than time, which could very easily run out at any moment. Life was fast, and Jak was still getting used to it sometimes. She went from never trusting anybody, to learning to trust some within weeks. That was strange to her, but she wasn’t going to complain.

Jak rolled over, facing Cait’s sleeping face now. They’d returned to their usual room in the Hotel Rexford, never having returned the key. Jak had offered it to the woman downstairs, apologizing for never returning it, and what was left unsaid was nonetheless understood as the woman gave Jak an unforgiving look. She stared at Jak for a moment, intently, as if her eyes were boring into Jak’s soul, scoffed, then tilted her head towards the stairs. Jak mumbled her thanks and hurriedly went to the room with Cait. 

Jak couldn’t begin to explain how glad she was to still be with Cait. So much had happened, too much. Jak had to admit she might not have made it this far without the redhead by her side. She’d still be at her derelict top floor apartment by Diamond City, alone and bitter and resentful. At least now, she wasn’t alone.

Still, a less welcome thought crept into her mind. If Jak had never met Cait, she may have never visited Goodneighbor. 

Goodneighbor would never have had to suffer for Jak.

But look where it got her. She’d infiltrated another raider base, and killed _ Apex _ , the...god-complex behind it all. Jak didn’t enjoy the idea of making others take her blows, but she realized this one might’ve had to be taken by _ someone _, regardless of who.

Perhaps it was all necessary after all.

  
  


A hand pressed tightly over Jak’s mouth, startling her awake. She attempted to sit up but the hand forced her to stay down. In an instant Jak pulled her pistol from its place beneath her pillow, brandishing it in the darkness. 

“Put that down,” hissed an unfortunately familiar voice. 

Why was _ she _ here?

“Stay quiet,” Fahrenheit demanded in a whisper as she released her hand from Jak’s mouth. “Listen up for a second, little pawn.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re--” Jak growled, but she was cut off by Fahrenheit’s hand over her mouth once more. Jak spit on it, smirking at Fahrenheit’s disgusted reaction as she yanked her hand back. Jak quickly sat up, throwing a blind punch. Her eyes weren’t yet adjusted to the dark, however, and Fahrenheit caught her arm with a twist.

“I said _ listen _!” Fahrenheit let go of Jak’s arm with a forceful shove. 

It was all Jak could do not to lose it on this bitch. Beside her, Cait stirred in her sleep. Jak wasn’t going to wake her up over this, though, some petty squabble. 

“Hancock trusts you,” began Fahrenheit, “but I got my eyes on you. You can’t have Goodneighbor.”

“I don’t want Goodneighbor,” Jak spat, bristling at the implication. “You really think I wanted that to happen?”

“I don’t know what to think.” She paused, and Jak could just make out her eyes gleaming in the dark, sinisterly. “You ever play chess? Sometimes you have to sacrifice a piece to keep the game going. Just remember I’m not afraid of sacrifices.” She turned and left the room, closing the door carefully. Jak dug the key from her pocket and locked the door back, not entirely sure how Fahrenheit even got in. Spare keys, maybe.

“Jak?” came a sleepy mumble from Cait. “What’re ya doin’?”

“Thought I heard something, it’s alright.”

“Just go to sleep, Jak. We’ll be fine.”

Jak got back in bed, huddling close to Cait. She couldn’t say she was worried about herself. Fahrenheit had very clearly threatened her, but all she felt was...well, more guilt. The girl had every right to mistrust Jak. If the mayor’s right hand didn’t trust her, no one would. 

She just hoped Cait would be happy here.

  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

“She’ll come around. Everyone does around Hancock.”

“Excuse me?” 

Jak got up early the next morning to do some shopping at Daisy’s, and maybe buy some kind of gift for Cait, just a token of appreciation. The ghoul woman’s words caught Jak off guard.

“Word around here is Fahrenheit doesn’t trust you. It’s bugging you, I can tell.” She bent down to grab some stimpaks from under the counter and laid them out for Jak. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Jak mumbled, unsure of how to respond. She dumped a handful of caps on the countertop, and Daisy placed her hand over Jak’s. 

“Give us time. Everyone will see you don’t mean us any harm, and they’ll see Hancock trusts you. You couldn’t have anyone better rooting for you here, hon” 

Jak smiled and nodded, mumbling her thanks once more. 

“Come back soon,” she said, giving Jak’s hand a squeeze before letting her go.

* * * *

The next few days slipped by uncomfortably, a thick air of tension between Jak and the people of Goodneighbor. Cait felt it too, receiving just as many dirty looks and nervous glances as Jak. It wasn’t like anybody trusted the girls before, nor did the girls trust the people, but it wasn’t as obvious either. The only way Jak could explain it was if everyone in Diamond City wanted to slit their throats.

“That’s all Goodneighbor is, isn’t it?” Cait remarked. “Just Diamond City on Psycho.” 

Jak nodded with a noise of agreement. She had never met the mayor of Diamond City, but she imagined a less-loyal and chem-free Hancock, most likely as timid as his people.

Cait looked back at her fists, clad in a pair of brass knuckles with blades protruding between each knuckle. “Hey, these are real nice. If only I had these back in the Combat Zone. Some blokes _ did _have fist weapons, I’d have to be real bloody careful goin’ up against them.” She looked up at Jak again. “Where’d you get these?”

“The weapons shop next to Daisy’s,” Jak said as she sat down on the couch next to Cait.

“Oh, with the weird arse robot girl?”

“That’s the one.”

“And this jacket?” Cait said, prodding at a brown sleeve curiously.

“Same place, the robot called it an army jacket.” Jak shrugged. “I just thought it would look good on you and maybe keep you a little warmer.” 

An impressed note sounded in Cait’s throat. The hotel room was still for a moment, the ceiling creaking with the breeze. Then Cait leaned over and planted a kiss on Jak’s cheek. “Thanks, love.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Jak said with a blush. “So I was thinking, I wanna go tell Hancock thank you for...everything. You can come if you want.”

A smile grew on Cait’s face. “Yeah alright, that sounds nice.”

  
  


“Hey, just the girls I was wantin’ to talk to,” Hancock chuckled. “I got a favor to ask.”

“Ask away,” Jak declared. “I owe you.”

“Now don’t go startin’ that shit with me,” said Hancock with a smirk, waving his hand dismissively. “All that ‘I owe you’ crap. Doesn’t matter to me. We’re friends here, all three of us,” he pointed at Cait to include her, “and you better not forget it. Only reason I’m even asking you gals for this favor is because I know I can trust you to get a job done. I’ll even put up some caps.”

“I won’t take your caps, Hancock,” Jak said. 

“Me neither, it’s enough for ya to keep us livin’ here,” Cait added. “I’m just glad to call Goodneighbor home.”

“I’m just glad to have a home,” Jak mumbled. “Even if it won’t have me.”

“I’m tellin’ you, doll, don’t worry about it,” Hancock said, placing a reassuring hand on Jak’s shoulder. “Stick around, prove the people wrong, you’ll earn their trust sooner or later.”

“Thanks, Hancock. Really.”

“Don’t mention it.” He strode to his usual seat on the couch.

“So what do you have for us?” Cait said, assuming the familiar position across from him once again. 

Jak smiled inwardly, not at all opposed to what was becoming a routine. The three of them sitting there like...friends. Hancock was right. She’d never had friends before, never wanted to. It was a welcome change of pace, though.

“Well firstly I kinda wanna thank _ you, _Jak.”

Jak became strangely aware of Fahrenheit standing against the doorway, arms crossed, staring murderously. 

“What?” Jak stared at Hancock with her eyes narrowed in confusion. Did she hear him right? How could Hancock thank her? After everything she brought to Goodneighbor? 

“You heard me. Ever since the Bloodbath, that’s what everyone’s referring to it as, it kinda showed me what’s broken here. Security was a little too lax, we got patrols shifting out twenty-four/seven now. We built watchtowers. Not just anyone gets through our door. In a fucked up way, I think this needed to happen.”

Jak shuddered a little the way Hancock echoed the sentiment she considered the other night. And the Bloodbath? That’s what it was, but hearing a name for it made her stomach churn. Still, it was almost reassuring in a way, that she wasn’t the only one who saw potential benefits in it all.

“With that being said, one of our patrols found signs of...well, something. We ain’t exactly sure what or who, but apparently there was a bunch of weird ass symbols painted all over the place, and these words: “‘Silence when words fail, action when silence fails.’”

“Fuck does that mean?” Cait snorted. 

Hancock just shrugged.

“Where was this at?” Jak asked. None of it rang any bells for her.

“An old school, south of here. Ain’t too far.” The mayor took a second, then tilted his head, his mouth curling hesitantly. “I was hopin’ you two could look around a bit, make sure we’re not gonna have any more raider troubles, you feel me?”

“Yeah, I feel you,” Jak said. 

“I have to train new recruits today,” Fahrenheit remarked, her voice seeming to shrug. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jak said. “Me and Cait can handle our own. We’ll find the place.”

“Damn right,” Cait beamed.

“That’s what I like about you two,” laughed Hancock. “Always so determined. Love it. So yeah, figure out what’s up, tell me about it, I’ll pay you. Two hundred and fifty caps?”

“I won’t take the caps, Hancock,” Jak said.

“What if I wanted them?” Cait said indignantly, though it was clear she was joking.

“Hey, suit yourselves. Caps are here if you change your mind.”

“Thanks Hancock, it means a lot to us.” Jak said.

Beside Jak, Cait nodded with a grin.

The girls took their leave, though Jak didn’t notice the one word Cait mouthed to Hancock before she left, or the sly wink he gave her.


	18. Chapter 18

“This is it, huh?”

Jak and Cait had found the school within a couple hours. Cait was squinting at the purple letters brushed across the wall, the strange saying. It reminded Jak of the weird shit she’d heard those Children of Atom people say before. Religion, that’s what it was, Jak’s life never had room for it. No use placing trust in something or someone that wasn't herself. Although she had to admit the thought was becoming a little ironic lately.

“What do you think it means?” Cait continued. 

Jak shrugged. “It’s like that whole ‘actions speak louder than words’ thing people toss around, but like...backwards.” 

“That is how it sounds, isn’t it?” Cait strolled closer to the building, pumping her shotgun. “All these symbols and shite...wonder what they’re supposed to be.”

Jak tread forward, carefully, taking in their surroundings. There didn’t appear to be any signs of life, no movement, nothing noticeably disturbed. The paint could be old, she reasoned. Anyone could’ve done it. She didn’t blame Hancock for being cautious, though. 

“Jak…”

The urgency in Cait’s voice turned Jak’s head to where the redhead stood, only to notice a hooded figure, dressed in a purple robe, carrying a strange but familiar gun. 

Enigma.

The person stood there, unmoving, but staring between the two girls. That was their mistake, Jak thought as she pointed her pistol at them. But as soon as she did, the person dropped their gun, letting it fall to the ground with an unusually hollow noise. Jak could see the person’s eyes round with fear between the pistol’s sights. 

“Cait, do you see anyone else?” Jak asked without looking away from the robed individual.

“No, I just think it’s this one.”

Slowly, Jak began to lower her gun, talking as she did. “Who are you?”

The individual just stared.

“Where are you from?”

Nothing.

“Is there anyone with you?”

“Jak, maybe he...or...she? Maybe they can’t talk.”

Peering from the corners of her eyes she could see Cait’s apprehensive look, her face a shade paler than normal. “Is that true?” She asked the person.

They hesitated, then nodded.

“Why not?”

The person pointed to the writing on the wall.

“What does that mean?”

“Oi, maybe we’re wastin’ our time, Jak.”

“It’s a raider, Cait, this is one of the Enigma, one of the groups working for Apex.”

The person cringed at the monster’s name with a slight inhalation. They shook their head, as if denying those things to be true. 

Jak knew this person had to be lying. She saw an Enigma at the Combat Zone, she had the burn scar to prove it. The Dishonored told her this was one of the groups Apex had on his leash. They were just another step to take, and this person was in her way. “No? No what?”

The person put their hand up cautiously, and crouched down. With a slightly trembling finger, they wrote in the dirt: 

“Not raider. Apex makes us work. False Speaker.”

“Well what the hell does that mean?” Cait mumbled.

The person waved their hand through the words and continued writing. “Enigma is family. Hurt by Apex. Family is afraid.”

“So...Apex has forced you into his ranks?” Jak remembered what the Dishonored had told her. 

“_ In some way or another, he’s convinced all the leaders of the different factions to be his allies, whether he talked, bribed, intimidated, or straight up dominated them in order to achieve the results he wanted _.”

The person nodded.

“So what are you doing here?” Cait asked.

“Set up camp. Apex told us to,” they wrote. A slow process, Jak was discovering.

“Apex is dead,” Jak scoffed.

The person averted their gaze to the ground. “Come with me. Take to family. Girl with missing hair paid me to hurt you. But I will not hurt you. I will help you. Teach you. Things you need to know.” The person fixed their round eyes on Jak, and they wrote the next words very deliberately. “We know who you are.”

“Jak, there’s more of ‘em,” Cait said, pointing past Jak. 

Jak turned, facing two more similarly robed Enigma. Strange designs were painted on their faces, and their guns were strapped around their waists, their hands up in submissive positions.

“Missing hair? Think they’re talkin’ about Fahrenheit?”

Jak had seen it coming, but not quite like this. Fahrenheit’s threat was obvious, but this was it? Paying off the Enigma to take her out? She wasn’t surprised if this whole lead was a setup. And Hancock didn’t even know. That chess-obsessed bitch needed to try harder next time.

But Jak could thank her, couldn’t she? For providing an opportunity she previously didn’t have. She was beginning to grow suspicious of how damn _ easy _ this was. These raider groups were just begging to die, weren’t they? Whether this Enigma was being honest or playing along with Fahrenheit’s little game, Jak didn’t trust them. She’d play along, bide her time, but this chance was hers.

“What do you think, Jak? This whole thing is a little spooky if you ask me. Doesn’t sit right, does it? Fuckin’ weirdos….” Cait shuddered. 

“We’ll go. See what they have to offer.” Jak looked pointedly at the Enigma. “But any funny shit and I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off.”

The Enigma nodded solemnly. 

The look on their face told Jak they genuinely meant no harm, but Jak refused to let her guard down. 

The Enigma pointed to the funny-looking gun on the ground, then pointed to Jak.

“You want me to take it?”

The Enigma nodded.

“Hey, I wouldn’t argue,” Cait said, shrugging. 

_ Too easy _.

With her pistol in one hand, Jak gingerly picked up the other gun. It was lighter than it looked, made of a lackluster silver material. It was warm, and she swore it hummed in her hand. Gaps in the metal showed some sort of violet energy pulsating within the weapon. She knew what that energy did, the way it charred flesh instantly. She imagined for a moment what would happen if one was shot in the same area repeatedly, deciding it would be a rather gruesome sight to behold. 

Beside her, Cait gave a whistle of admiration. “Nice score, huh?”

Jak leaned in towards Cait’s ear and whispered, “This is way too easy.”

“What is?” As soon as the question escaped Cait’s lips, her face turned into grim realization. “_ Jak _.”

* * * *

The Enigma remained silent throughout the journey, even when a yao guai came barreling from off the road towards them. Jak simply, almost boredly, shot it with the strange gun, incinerating the beast’s thick, festering hide with violet energy as the troupe of Enigma cowered. Strangely, the familiar kick of a gun into her hand or shoulder wasn’t there. This weapon had no recoil, which genuinely perplexed Jak, yet it also aroused a more sinister curiosity within her. This thing was...promising. 

  
  


Jak wasn’t sure what she was expecting from the Enigma but it certainly wasn’t them living in a _ junkyard _. But as they approached the place, there was no mistake. They did live there, and there was a lot of them, dwelling inside various large, metal crates or rickety wood buildings constructed over masses of twisted, hollowed out cars. All of these were crudely painted purple, if it could even be called painting. It looked more like buckets of the stuff were splashed over everything. Jak was beginning to wonder what the Enigma obsession with the color was. She hadn’t paid much attention before but there was a white, eye-like symbol Jak was noticing now, and it was everywhere, adorning the robes of the Enigma and the walls of their homes and virtually anywhere else it could be fit. 

Walking through the small town, Jak could hear…well, nothing. A brisk wind muttered, as if telling long-lost secrets about the place, but there was no talking, no commotion expected from human life. Many Enigma regarded Jak and Cait curiously as the girls were led on by the Enigma they had met. Others seemed not to notice, or care. Many Enigma had some sort of face paint, strange and abstract designs consisting of curving lines and dots of various sizes, all of which were purple. Jak picked up on the presence of a few more of the violet-beamed guns, but the amount was highly disproportionate to the population. How this group was surviving with such a lack of protection was a mystery to Jak, but also furthered her amusement. What was that one saying? Shooting...fish in a barrel? Except a few of these fish would shoot back. Humored, Jak snorted and shrugged without fully realizing it, earning a strange look from Cait. 

The Enigma lead the two girls to the tallest, most precarious building, a sort of tower, sitting in the middle of the settlement. It sat within a particularly large wall of scrap, leaning to one side a little, as if it was going to fall over at any moment. Adorning the tower were tons of strange, blinking, colorful lights, blue and green and yellow, nothing Jak had ever seen before. They wrapped around the tower, weaving in and out of supports and openings. Various pieces of metal and junk formed chimes and decorations that glinted in the light as the breeze pushed past them. A narrow path had been cleared through the scrap heap wall, leading to a frail-looking ladder that went up inside the tower. Jak doubted it could hold more than one person at a time. 

The Enigma stopped Jak and Cait, gesturing with open hands for them to wait. They climbed the ladder, leaving the girls below.

“Some raiders,” Cait muttered. “The lot of them don’t look like they could hurt a fly.”

Jak wouldn’t deny they were the most pitiful raider group she’d ever seen. “Raider” didn’t even seem like the proper term. They just seemed like...a community. Just...people. 

“They work for Apex though,” Jak reminded. “They serve him some purpose. That needs taken care of.”

“Apex is dead, remember?” Cait whispered scornfully.

Before Jak could retort that of course she knew that, she was the one who fuckin’ killed him, a voice broke through. Subdued and calm but almost booming against the air of silence within the Enigma camp, it said “You may enter, strangers.”

Jak and Cait shared glances, Cait arching her eyebrow. Jak mouthed “Be ready” before heading up the ladder. 

When her head first came up above the floor, Jak was greeted with more dazzling yet dim lights, laying in clumps and tangles around the room. It was a rather small room, low ceilinged, plain, but a pile of ratty cushions was gathered in the back. Atop the cushions lounged a hooded person, a woman, from what Jak could tell. Her hands and feet were wrapped up with stained cloth beneath her robe, bandages, maybe, and the hood covered most of her face. All Jak could see was her mouth, which was painted a deep purple color with a design reminiscent of the other Enigma, yet something about her design felt more...powerful. She exhumed the presence of a leader, and she looked the part. Beside this woman was the Enigma that had led Jak and Cait thus far, sitting cross-legged and nervously tapping their fingers on the ground. For a moment, that was all there was to hear, the tap-tap-tap of those fingers as the hooded woman presumably surveyed Jak and Cait. Both girls stood, Jak gripping tighter the strange gun she’d resigned to simply calling Violet, Cait bending her head a slight degree to avoid hitting the ceiling.

Finally, the woman spoke. "You must be Jak," she said. "We have heard much about you."

Jak remained silent. She had no desire to speak with this woman. She was just another one of Apex’s pawns, waiting to be knocked down. Damn, she was starting to sound like Fahrenheit. Speaking of the bitch, what was she thinking, trying to get _ these _raiders to kill Jak? Of all the worthless assholes in the Commonwealth, she chose possibly the most worthless of all.

But somewhere in the back of Jak’s mind surfaced the expression the Enigma, that had led the girls here, had on their face when they warned her of Fahrenheit’s scheme. It was...genuine, admonishing. They had said they were going to teach Jak things she needed to know. What could they possibly teach her, though? She didn’t particularly care to find out. No, she was not interested in what these...people had to offer.

“You wish not to speak to us,” the woman cut through Jak’s silence. “But we wish to speak to you.”

“Like hell you do,” Cait snorted. 

The woman turned her head towards Cait, slowly. Beneath the hood, the corner of the woman’s mouth twitched playfully. “Indeed, like hell. Do not fret, dear. We know you, too.”

“Yeah? Prove it,” challenged Cait.

“Cage fighter, lover, addict. Headstrong but unsure of who you are. In love but unsure of how long it will last. Strong, silent, lest you be broken again. Perhaps the facade is cracking, little bird?”

For a long moment, Cait stared at this woman, clenching her jaw. “What the hell do these fuckers want, Jak?”

“I meant no disrespect, I was merely proving--”

“Cut the shit,” Jak spat, grabbing her pistol and holding it towards the woman. 

The woman’s head tilted slightly, her lips pursing together in amusement. Beside her, the Enigma gaped in horror at the events unfolding. 

“Let us not be rash, dear. You want to put that bullet in my skull. You want to put it in Styx’s skull,” she gestured to the Enigma at her side, “you want to put it in each and every skull within this home of ours and you do not care how you do it, as long as it is done.” She leaned forward, until her head pressed into the pistol. “We have heard much about you. We wish to speak to you. I would advise you speak with us.”

Something was holding Jak from pulling that trigger and she couldn’t quite place what it was. The way the hooded woman did nothing to avert the situation, the fear in the eyes of Styx, the familiar hand on Jak’s shoulder, urging her to stop, she wasn’t sure. But she put her gun away, stepped back towards the wall, and dropped herself to sit on the floor.

“Fine. Talk.”

Cait sat herself a little more carefully beside Jak, letting her shotgun rest on her lap.

The woman nestled herself comfortably back into the cushions. “I do not wish to alarm you by beginning this exchange with such disastrous news, but there is something I must tell you.” The woman fell silent, as if trying to puzzle out the right words to say.

“Spit it out, then.” Jak snapped.

The woman bowed her head slightly. “Apex is...still alive.”

Jak burst into laughter, almost maniacal, while Cait just shook her head. 

“Bullshite,” she said. “Jak killed him, I watched the whole goddamn thing.”

“I understand what it may have appeared as, but--”

“Lady, I stomped a knife way deep into his eye socket. He’s not makin’ it out of that one, I made _ sure _of that.” Jak rolled her eyes. “Fahrenheit set you up to this, too? Tryin’ to scare me or some shit?”

“I assure you this is not me fear mongering. I am trying to prepare you for what may come.”

“Just how the hell could he be alive, huh? It doesn’t make any bloody sense and neither do you.” Cait was furious, to Jak’s surprise.

“I am not sure. But I have seen it before. He is no ordinary man. He does not die like ordinary men.”

Jak’s eyes were fixed on the woman, blank, a smirk on her face. She was tuning this bullshit out. There was no way that bastard was alive. She fucking killed him, and if the knife didn’t he would’ve bled out. She _ killed him _.

“That is why we need your help, Jak.”

Jak’s world came back to focus. “My help?” She scoffed.

“We share a common enemy. We know you aim to take him down. Everyone does.”

“You really expect us to believe that, do you?” Cait moved to get up. “Let’s get the hell outta here, Jak, while we can.”

“You do not understand. We have been _ forced _ into this monster’s ranks,” the woman said. Her voice cracked with a glacial rage that wasn’t previously there as she stood up, bending to avoid the ceiling. “We lived our own life, peaceful. Only because of _ him _ do we earn the stain of being considered ‘raiders’. Only because of _ him _ we are chosen as disposable spies, because we are weak and inconspicuous and worthless outside of his needs. Only because of _ him _ are we bothering to have this discussion with you. But you,” she aimed an accusing finger at Jak, “you do not consider the possibility that you are wrong. You do not consider that there are those who know what you do not. You do not consider that you are not the only one affected by Apex’s psychopathic reign. You only think of _ yourself _ .” She sat back down, leaning back and surveying the look on Jak’s face. “Do you know what _ we _ think of _ you _?”

“I don’t give one fu--”

“Jak,” Cait said quietly. 

Jak could tell she was buying into this madwoman’s sob story. “No, Cait, I don’t _ care _ ! I don’t _ care _ what they have to say, the only reason I’m even _ here _is so I can fucking--”

“You give us hope,” an unfamiliar voice piped up. Fragile, like cracked glass. 

Jak turned her head, caught off guard by...Styx?

“What did you just say?” Jak wouldn’t believe it. 

“You...you give us hope, Jak.” Styx looked toward the floor timidly. 

“You fight back so viciously against Apex and the scum working for him,” the woman added. “That inspires us.”

“But...why?” Jak was shaking her head, to herself more than anyone. “Why do you...I mean….”

“No one ever stands up to him. That was until you.”

“I’m not your rebel,” Jak said. “I’m not some...what, revolution? All I’m doing is getting even with the fucker that killed my parents, I’m not--”

“But that is precisely it!” The woman moved her hands as she spoke. “He has wronged many more than just you, Jak. Yet you are the one that takes action, putting matters into your own hands. Selfish though you may be, you are nonetheless inspirational.”

Beside the woman, Styx was staring at Jak, their face suspended in disbelief. 

“What?” she sighed. 

“Your parents….”

“What the fuck about them?” Jak slapped her legs with her hands, exasperated.

“Jak, you were...you were almost Baptized.”

A minute passed. “I was _ what _?”

Cait was staring at the floor intently, trying to put two and two together.

“We were never meant to escape.” They met Jak with round, brown eyes. 

“Oi, the hell are you talkin’ about?” Cait butt in.

“He kills the parents...takes the children...breaks them. Makes them his. I’ve only ever met one other person like me...us...but he….”

“All of them make up his sick army,” the woman spat. “_ New Gods _,” she scoffed, “he promises power and glory after emptying their hearts of any kind of ‘weakness’.”

The floor threatened to give from Jak. “The New Gods are full-grown men and...I’ve seen them, they….”

“Come now, how old were you when you lost your parents?”

“I...don’t remember. It was a while ago, I….”

“Exactly. Apex has been a shadow lurking in the Commonwealth for the past two decades. Biding his time. Amassing his army. Conquering the weak, one family at a time.”

Her face was tingling, why was her face tingling? And she was cold, there were goosebumps crawling all up her flesh and she was breathing faster and faster and she wasn’t supposed to escape….

And then she remembered it, echoing through the onset of panic was that sneer, that rasp with the whistling breath.

“_ No wonder you’re such a little ingrate. You were never Baptized. _”

“But Apex is _ gone _ !” Jak cried, her voice a little higher in pitch than normal. “His army will _ crumble _ , you guys are _ free _.”

“Jak, you heard them, love. He’s...still here. Somehow.”

“You believe them?” 

“I...well I don’t want to, but honestly, maybe...they know more about the fucker than we do.”

By “we” Cait meant “you,” and Jak knew it. “I...killed him.” Jak almost choked on the words. She refused to believe, but she knew, deep down, she never did. She had always known things felt unresolved. She just wouldn’t acknowledge it, because how fucking ridiculous was it that he could’ve survived? How was it even possible?

Cait moved to put her arm around Jak, but she shrugged her off.

“Jak, we sincerely apologize. Often the truth is not quite what one would like to hear, but--”

  
“Oh, shut it,” Cait groaned. “How are we supposed to help you if he’s still alive?”

“Well,” the woman paused, deliberating. “We have spent our time watching, trying to find what will bring him down once and for all...to no avail. There is simply not enough talk, and not enough opportunity to be close to him to understand.”

“You’re spies, ain’t ya?”

“Not of our own volition, no! Nor would we risk our own so freely with little promise of success.”

“So...what, you expect us to do it for you?”

“Not necessarily, no. But if you two should happen to find out some useful information, perhaps you would be willing to share it with us?”

“Why should we?”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“Well just what exactly have you done for us?”

“Shared with you some useful information. Spared your life though we were promised a fine sum of caps to take it. And, should you happen to deliver upon this potential agreement, we will help you in any way possible. You will have made a friend of the Enigma.”

“And why would we need you?”

“Cait,” Jak muttered. Her vision was narrowing, and she was seeing spots. Her mouth was dry like the dirt on her boots. But worst of all, she felt defeated, somehow. She couldn’t argue any longer with this woman’s points, and she now had to accept that everything that had happened that night was more or less for nothing. Apex was still out there, and she was back on the hunt. “We’ll...whatever, we’ll do it. We’ll help them, we’ll….” Jak sighed, rubbing her face with her hand. “Fuck.”

“Jak, are you ser-”

“Yes, yes, I’m serious, I’m...let’s just go.”

“I assure you, you will not regret this.” The woman smiled. 

“What’s your name,” Jak grunted. Her stomach felt...bad.

“You may call me Great Speaker.”

“Great--yeah, whatever. Whatever, we’ll come back if we find anything out. What about you guys?”

“We know where to find you,” the Speaker said.

“Great,” Cait breathed.

“Actually,” Styx spoke. “I think...I mean I’d like to...to join you two.”

Cait’s jaw dropped. Had circumstances proven lighter, Jak might’ve laughed. 

“No way,” Cait shook her head. “We never said we trusted you, just that we’d agree to this shite.”

“Styx, you know the rules. Surely that would prove difficult?” The Speaker was clearly frowning.

“Screw rules, who said we wanted a tagalong?”

“Please, I know it’s not ideal, but...I want to help you.” Styx shuffled their feet for a moment. “ I know we haven’t been...um, easy for you.”

The Speaker snorted.

“I just….”

“You can come with us,” Jak said.

“_ Jak _.” Cait crossed her arms, unimpressed with the situation.

“We could use someone else to have our back, Cait.” And if things go wrong, Styx would be leverage at best. Jak wouldn’t say that out loud, but she wasn’t backing down. Just because she was allowing this didn’t mean she trusted Styx.

“Oh, thank you, so much. This will work out, don’t worry.” Styx spoke more to Cait than Jak.

“You are sure about this, Styx?” The Speaker still had that doubtful tone in her voice.

“You’re sure about this, Jak?” Cait added.

“I’ll be alright, Great Speaker.” Styx bowed their head respectfully.

“I’m sure, Cait.” Jak leaned to whisper in Cait’s ear. “Just trust me on this.” Then she turned to Styx. “What rules are the...Great Speaker talking about, though?”

“Well, the Enigma are forbidden to use our voice outside of the immediate presence of the Great Speaker.”

“Is that somethin’ you all came up with, or Apex?”

“It is law,” the Speaker scoffed. “Upheld through generations of Speakers, ever since our first, the Greatest of the Speakers, who formed the Enigma family.” She straightened proudly.

“Right,” Cait muttered.

“It’s not going to bother you guys, is it?” Styx asked timidly.

They seemed so innocent, Jak couldn’t bring herself to tell them it was pretty damn hard having a companion that couldn’t talk. She caught Cait’s eye, who shook her head and broke the contact.“It shouldn’t be. You know how to write, that...that’ll be enough.” Jak forced a smile despite the ache in her head that had been blossoming.

“Well...it is settled then, is it not?” the Speaker leaned forward.

“ S’pose it is,” Cait uttered.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

“So...are you a guy or a girl?”

Cait’s blunt question broke what had been the silent return to Goodneighbor. 

Styx looked at Cait blankly for a long moment. 

“Just askin.’ Since we’re gonna be together now, until hell if I know when. Might as well get to know you, right?”

Styx nodded slowly, then shrugged. 

“What?”

Styx furrowed their brows in confusion.

“ _ What? _ ” Cait repeated.

A look of realization dawned on their face. They stopped walking, crouching to the ground.

“Here we go again,” Cait rolled her eyes. Then, noticing Jak was still walking ahead, she called after her. “Hey, Jak, wait up for us, yeah?”

The return to Goodneighbor had been a blur to Jak, yet it felt infinitely slow through the silence. She walked with leaden feet, drifting in and out of awareness of her exact surroundings. She only registered major landmarks, such as the school she and Cait found Styx at, or the Combat Zone, or that fucking pond. Cait said nothing the whole time, trading words with silent tension. Jak could feel it, constricting them together. Meanwhile, Styx said nothing because they...couldn’t talk? She only vaguely acknowledged that Cait and Styx had stopped walking, but it took Cait’s words to turn her around. 

Approaching the two, Jak noticed the words Styx had dug into the dirt. 

“Not boy or girl. Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Well ain’t that somethin’,” Cait mused.   
  


Styx smiled awkwardly.

“So...do we call you she? He?”

Styx put their hand up to their mouth thoughtfully, then wrote, “They?”

“They...huh. Makes it sound like you’re multiple people though, doesn’t it? 

“I think it is more neutral?” Styx wrote.

“I guess that could work. Right, Jak?”

Jak just nodded, then continued walking.

  
  


Hancock gave Jak and Cait special permission to come and go from Goodneighbor as they pleased, according to the guards at the door. They allowed Styx to pass with them, though reluctantly.

“We have to meet with someone,” Jak explained to Styx as they made their way towards the state house. “You can wait for us outside if you want.”

Styx shrugged.

“Alright, then.”

  
  


Up the stairs in the state house, Jak was face to face with the ghoul she was growing so fond of. 

“Jak! You’ve made it back, good to see ya.” Hancock greeted her with open arms, like always. “ Dear ol’ Cait, how ya doin’, gal? And...who’s this?”

But Jak wasn’t paying attention. She was staring at Fahrenheit menacingly, who was conveniently avoiding eye contact. Her attention was real focused on that damn chessboard of hers. 

“Is everything okay, Jak?” came Hancock’s voice of concern, though distantly, it seemed.

She wouldn’t say she didn’t know what she was doing, because she was  _ fully  _ aware of herself as she crossed the distance between them in a few quick steps, slapped the chessboard off the table, and pinned Fahrenheit against the floor in a shower of chess pieces. 

“Make sure they kill me next time, bitch.” She spit on the girl, standing up and shaking off Cait’s hands. 

“What the hell was that?” Cait demanded.

Jak turned around, only to find herself staring down a shotgun with Hancock behind it.

“The  _ fuck  _ are you doin’?” he growled. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“Ask  _ her _ ,” Jak spat. “That whole lead was a fucking set-up to get me killed by some raiders she paid off. Except it didn’t work because...I-I still don’t know, that’s besides the point. She’s out for me.”

“And just what makes you say that?” Hancock asked, narrowing his eyes and raising his chin so he was looking down on Jak.

“Because she was in my hotel room the night before, threatening me. And Styx told me.”

Styx, who was as far against the wall away from the conflict as possible, looked up at the mention of their name and nodded emphatically.

“Wait, you never told me she broke into our damn room, Jak.” Cait crossed her arms indignantly.

“I could say the same thing,” Hancock scoffed. “There’s a problem ‘round here, you tell me, Jak. I don’t need folks thinkin’ they can do what the fuck ever. And you!” He rounded on Fahrenheit, who was wiping her face in utter disgust. “Same damn thing! What do you think you’re doing, paying off raiders to kill Jak?”

“You trust her too much, Hancock,” Fahrenheit said icily. “Letting her back in after the Bloodbath, it’s not right. I saw a threat, I intended to neutralize it, no questions asked.”

“Is that right?” Hancock stepped up uncomfortably close to Fahrenheit, almost nose to no-nose. “Maybe you should’ve been asking questions, like ‘Remember what happened when someone else thought they could run things better than the mayor?’”

The two stared intensely for a moment, as if fighting a silent battle.

“Outta my sight,” Hancock said, announcing his silent victory. “We’ll talk later.” He sighed as Fahrenheit left the room. “Jak, doll, just...not cool. You’re on edge, I get it, but next time try not to assault my right-hand, got it?” He put up his hand just as Jak opened her mouth. “I ain’t excusing Fahrenheit either so don’t even go there”

“Apex is alive,” Jak said, ignoring everything the mayor just said. 

“See, I didn’t believe you when you told me he was dead, but somehow I don’t believe you tellin’ me he’s alive. Just make up your mind, already.”

“It’s true,” Cait said. “I mean...I think it is. The Enigma told us.”

“The who?”

Right, Hancock had no idea what had happened. Jak and Cait explained, how Styx came to follow them, how the Enigma were the group paid off to kill Jak, how they were forced to work for Apex, setting up his camps and being his spies. How, somehow, they knew he was alive, and how they spoke as if he...fuck, comes back from the dead? Jak didn’t know. It wasn’t a long story to tell, but it was draining.

Hancock, however, just seemed confused. “Didn’t you tell me you jammed a knife up his eye?”

“Yes,” Jak said, her face twisting into a derisive grin. “I shot him, Cait shot him, I broke his nose and his jaw and he was lying in a puddle of his own blood, he was fucking  _ dead _ .” She let out a shaky, aggressive breath. 

Hancock fished around in his pocket, pulling out a canister of Jet. He offered it to Jak with wide eyes. “You need to chill out, sister. Take it easy.”

“I don’t want your chems,” she snapped.

The mayor put it back in his pocket with a look on his face that said “If you say so.”

“I think we’re gonna head home,” Cait said as she sidled up to Jak, cautiously putting her arm around Jak, as if she was going to blow up at any minute.

“Alrighty then, you sure you guys don’t want anything in return? Somehow I feel like I owe you even more than before.”

“Just keep Fahrenheit away from me,” Jak muttered as she stalked out of the room, disregarding Cait’s presence. “C’mon, Styx.”

The timid Enigma followed, obviously restless and unsure of what exactly was going on around on them.

Hancock chuckled to himself.

“I’ll meet you back,” Cait called after her, though she was already making her way down the stairs.

“She’s, ah, not doing well, is she?”

Cait turned to Hancock, sighing. “Not really. I think...somethin’ about that, uh, news is really buggin’ her.”

“I guess I can’t blame the gal,” Hancock said, strolling over to the couch. He plopped down, stretching himself out with a groan. One leg was bent knee-up on the couch, while the other was resting on the floor. Both his hands were folded beneath his head. “Way she talked about what she did to him….” He frowned, dark eyes staring up at the ceiling. “It was freaky, man.”

Cait slouched across from Hancock. “Wasn’t her proudest moment, I reckon. Then again...I dunno sometimes. I just know Jak isn’t someone to fuck with--”

“No shit.” Hancock made a noise of bewilderment.

“--and...I think Apex really fucked with her. Some of the shite she’s talked about before...it ain’t right. She’s….” Cait trailed off, her face overtaken in some forlorn shadow as she thought of her partner. “She’s in a dark place.”

“We’re all in dark places. It’s all about finding your light, and sometimes you gotta make your own ‘cause no one else will.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Cait sighed.

“I’m pretty shit at making lights, so I just get high.” Hancock tilted his head like a shrug. “Guess the people here get me through, though. I don’t know if they know how much Goodneighbor means to me.”

“You’re high right now, aren’t ya?”

“Just comin’ down, what about it?” He turned his head, smirking at Cait. “Let a guy get mushy, sheesh.” 

Cait laughed a little. “Nothin’ wrong with it, just as long as you don’t expect me to return it.”

“I guess I won’t ask you then.”

“Ask me what?”

Hancock stared at Cait curiously. “What your light is.”

Cait laughed, or at least pretended she did. Picking at a patch in her pants, she shrugged. “Dunno. Jak is, I suppose. She just...her light gets a little dim sometimes, y’know? And...I guess...sometimes it...it gets a little hard to see, screw your stupid little analogy!” The words were blunt but Cait was smiling and so was Hancock.

“Nahhh, I know what you mean though.” He sat up, suddenly, leaning over the table that separated the two. “Hey, sometimes we gotta stumble a little bit before we find our way. But don’t be surprised if you gotta make your own light, sooner or later.” He eased back into his seat, eyes staring ahead wistfully.

“You’re really gonna drag this light shite on, aren’t you?”

“Long as I feel like, yeah. You’re only mad ‘cause it’s true.”

Cait stiffened up for a moment, but Hancock didn’t notice.

“Thanks, again, for what you two did for me.”

“Thanks for what you’ve done for us. Really means a lot y’know?”

“Ahhh, don’t mention it. Hey, did you...still want…?”

“If you still got it, yeah.”

Hancock got up, rummaged through some familiar drawers, and brought Cait back a handful of Psycho. “This enough?” 

Cait stared at the stuff, as if in a trance. “I’ll...just take one.”

“You sure?”

“Can I come back for more if I need it?”

“Probably.” Hancock winked. 

“Then yeah, I’m...I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

“You have no idea how much this--” 

“Save it, doll. You should get goin’, make sure Jak hasn’t murdered Fahrenheit yet.”

“That’s probably for the best, yeah.” Cait went to leave, but turned around at the doorway. “See ya.”

Hancock waved with a fond smile.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some described drug use here!

Cait took a deep breath of the chilly night air as she stepped outside the state house. It was fall, wasn’t it? It felt like it, as goosebumps raised on her skin and the air burned her lungs, it was so brisk. The small plaza she stood before was empty, the shops closed down. Casting her eyes to the sky, she reckoned it was late, maybe midnight. The moon hung, just a sliver above her, as if hiding its true face. 

She sat on a nearby bench, not at all looking forward to confronting Jak. Besides, Cait had...prior arrangements.

“It’s as good a time as ever,” she sighed, a ghost of vapor escaping her lips as she breathed. Slipping off one of her bracers, she held the syringe of Psycho ready, the needle hovering just over her wrist. She thought of Jak, her face, disappointed, but that ended up pushing her more than before.

The needle broke the skin, and momentarily Cait felt her heart racing, her veins throbbing as the blood roared in Cait’s ears, and she was angry,  _ fuck,  _ she was angry. She took a deep breath, trembling as she gripped the edges of the bench. But this time she couldn’t keep that artificial ferocity within her. Far too much was racing through her mind, some of it fueled by the chem. 

Like how Jak didn’t tell her Fahrenheit broke into their room the other night, and, what, threatened Jak? That’s the kind of shite Cait wanted to know. Why wouldn’t she? That’s her...that’s her fucking girlfriend!

Her girlfriend who casually let some stranger join them, she never said she was okay with that, some no-talking weirdo following them around everywhere. What the hell was she thinking?

And who was that bitch in the hood, talking like she knew Cait? That didn’t sit right, not at all, and though she loathed admitting it, it was because she knew it all to be true. It was like that woman was  _ in her mind _ , as ridiculous as that sounded, and that bugged the living hell out of Cait. Made her feel...see-through, vulnerable to the point of...fuck, she didn’t know. 

She let out a furious yell as she pounded her fists on the bench, unable to contain it anymore. For a short while longer Cait was still fuming, rambling thoughts playing over in her mind. But as the rage faded and she was left with that fuzzy serenity, there was one, less aggressive thought that bore down on her like a black cloud.

Jak was going to kill Apex again.

Cait knew that, and she understood that there was nothing she could do to stop Jak. And that's what scared her the most, really. Because something was different about Jak. It was subtle, a dark look in the girl's eye or a grim edge to her voice. Subtle, but not to Cait. She could  _ feel  _ Jak falling, deeper into whatever sick dream the girl was creating.

What if Jak fell too far? If killing Apex again drove her even deeper? What if Cait couldn't reach her anymore? Cait could admit, she wasn’t sure what she’d do without Jak, or where she’d go. Part of her worried Jak would see her as an obstacle, something holding her back from her goals. And truthfully, Cait would. She would resist, hold Jak back, for as long as she needed to, as long as she possibly could, because she couldn’t let Jak do that to herself.

Cait looked down at her still-bare wrist, the small, swollen hole that glared back at her. She chuckled at the realization that her and Jak were a bunch of hypocrites, trying to protect each other from their selves without bothering to show the same care to their own selves.

  
  
  


“Where’ve you been?” Jak sat on the hotel bed, her back turned.

Her voice was blandly passive, though Cait knew it was a front. “Takin’ a breather,” she said, closing the door behind her. It stuck for a moment, prompting Cait to accidentally slam it. “Where’s Styx?”

“Room beside us. Didn’t want them in ours.”

“That’s uh...yeah I didn’t either.” The wall creaked as Cait leaned her side against the doorway. “Listen, I wanted to talk about...well, today.”

“I know.”

“Uh...yeah. How’re you holdin’ up? There’s been a lot to take in, hasn’t there?”

“I feel fine.” 

Jak still had her back turned, and it was beginning to annoy Cait. “Okay, well, there’s some things I wanted to talk about.” Cait rounded the bed to sit beside Jak, the mattress groaning as she did.

Finally, Jak turned slightly, enough to look at Cait. “Like what?”

“Styx, for one.”

“Leverage, if anything goes to shit we have Styx to hold over their heads.”

Cait struggled to grasp those words with the amount of casualty Jak spoke them with. “You’re...serious?”

“...yeah?”

“Jak that’s another human being, not some bloody ransom note. I don’t much care for the thought of them comin’ along but see I didn’t really get a say.”

Jak shrugged. “You could’ve said no.”

  
  


Cait scoffed. “Well ya put me on the spot! You-" she sighed. "Whatever. What about Fahrenheit, breaking into our room and threatening you while I was asleep? You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t think it was important,” Jak shrugged as she directed her eyes towards a strange stain on the mattress. “It wasn’t serious, really.”

“I don’t know what your definition of serious is but that strikes me as pretty bloody serious.”

“She didn’t actually do anything, I wasn’t gonna wake you up for nothing.”

“Except she did do something,” Cait retorted. “She tried to kill us today.”

“Yeah, and she failed. So it never really mattered after all, did it?”

Cait stared at Jak, eyes narrowed. Jak was being far too dismissive. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said, somethin’s off and I can tell.”

“I’m fine, Cait, really.” Jak’s eyes found Cait. 

“You’re just kinda bein’ an arse.”

Jak laughed, not convincingly. “Sorry, long day, y’know?”

“Is it Apex?” Cait decided to cut to the point. She wasn’t in the mood for bullshite.

Jak’s face tightened, the laugh lines fading from her face. “What about him?”

“You just...seem very shaken to find out he might not actually be dead.”

“A little pissed, maybe, but not really shaken.”

“Really?” Cait was unconvinced, and it showed through her voice. 

Jak made a grimacing sort of half-smile. “Yeah?”

“It’s not ‘cause you’re gonna go crazy doin’ it all over again?”

Jak genuinely, disturbingly, laughed. She turned herself to lean closer to Cait, almost...threateningly? “You think I can’t do it, Cait?”

“I never said that, I said--”

“Nah, I know what you said.” There was a coldness in the girl’s voice that Cait had never heard before, not when Jak was talking to  _ her _ . “Thing is, you still don’t get it. I’m not afraid of him, I’m not ashamed of what I did to him, all I’m doing is continuing the same trip I’ve been making when I previously thought it ended early.”

“You’re in some kinda denial, Jak, you...” Cait trailed off. Jak’s eyes weren’t matching her voice. Cait didn’t see the usual savage intensity they took on when she referred to Apex, or her vengeance. They weren’t as...stormy as usual. “You’re lyin’ to me and you’re lyin’ to yourself and I think you know that.” She was barely whispering. “You know what you did nearly cost you, more than just me.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Jak scowled. “Cait, I love you, but you  _ don’t get it _ .”

Tears streaked down Cait’s face like wishing stars. “Jak, you’re losin’ yourself. You’re only gonna lose yourself even more.”

“I’ve been lost all my life, I always find my way.”

“What if you don’t this time?”

“I’ll have you.” The words were loving but the eyes were still so damn cold. “I won’t get lost because I’ll still have you, no matter what happens.”

Cait felt the tears glide down her throat, her collarbone. She straightened her head, lower lip quivering. “Will you?” 

The words hurt like a bitch to let out but she couldn’t help feeling better when she saw that pain mirrored on Jak’s face, when Jak showed a sign of actually giving a damn about what she had to say. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I hope, for your sake, that you don’t find out.”

“Cait,” Jak sighed, moving to embrace her lover. “I...I love you, you know that. But I  _ have  _ to do this.”

“No, you fuckin’ don’t, Jak!” Cait was screaming now as she stood up, over Jak. “You fuckin'-”

“What’s that?” Jak asked softly, pointing somewhere at Cait.

“What?” Cait snarled, looking down at…her bare, track marked wrist. “Oh, shite,” she whispered, exasperated. She had left her bracer on the bench.

“Is that where you….”

“Yeah, okay?” She threw her hands in the air, eyes stinging from the tears. “Yeah, it is. I’m still a junkie, surprise! I don’t feel bad about it, neither, you get to plan your psychotic little murder sprees, who am I hurtin’?”

“You have the nerve to talk to me about...losing myself or endangering myself or what-fucking-ever, but you….” Jak sounded irrationally calm, but Cait definitely saw lightning in those eyes now. “You have the nerve….”

“Seems like we both wanna run the other one’s life, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Jak demanded. “I’m trying to keep you from….” She trailed off as Cait raised her eyebrows. The look of realization on Jak’s face was impossible to miss.

“Funny, ain’t it?”

And that was that. Jak let herself fall back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Cait was leaning against the wall, staring unfocused at Jak. It was evident Cait had rendered Jak speechless, as many moments passed in silence. It felt better than she wanted it to, and she was still so angry, only this was still subdued, not being dragged to the surface by chems. 

“We gotta let each other make our own decisions, Cait.”

And Cait knew that. She struggled to accept it, but she knew. An idea had been forming in her mind, one she wasn’t particularly fond of, but it was...something. “I’ll stop using if you give up Apex.”

Jak sat up immediately. “ _ What _ ?”

“You heard me, love.” Cait was wistful, already regretting the future she was preparing herself for.

“I can’t just give him up! You still don’t fucking get it, Cait!”

“And you think I can just up and quit using chems? No, but I’ll try my best if you’ll pick yourself up. Because you’re falling, Jak.” The words cracked. “I don’t want you to keep falling.”

Jak blinked several times. Cait couldn’t tell if she was holding back tears or simply pondering what Cait had said. It was quiet again as Jak seemingly searched the room for an answer, looking to everything other than Cait. Finally, she spoke, a murmur.

“I won’t go out of my way to search for him. But...” Jak looked at Cait. “If I find him, I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill him and I’m gonna make sure he stays dead. And you won’t stop me. Until then, I’m done searching. I’m sorry, Cait.”

Well, better than nothing. “It’ll be fine...thanks, I guess...Jak.” It felt like caving in, and Cait resented that. But in Jak’s twisted way, it seemed like she was going to try for Cait, so Cait was going to try for her. Jak always did say that’s what counted. 

Cait only hoped Jak would actually try.

“And...one more thing, Jak.”

The girl raised her eyebrows.

“Styx _isn’t_ leverage.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

Staring at the red bird’s cage, Jak watched the door slowly open with a squeak. 

She reached for the bird inside, but she couldn’t seem to reach far enough. Something was holding her back as the bird’s humanly eyes stared at her, unblinking. The bird seemed neutral, not afraid of Jak but not wanting to warm up to her either. Unsure of what else to do, she turned to walk away. 

But as she did, the door flew shut, the bird now peering through the wire cage.

Approaching it again prompted the cage to be open once more. The bird still stared at Jak, and she almost swore she saw it shake its head, as if it was _ disappointed _.

“You can’t stop me,” Jak found herself saying. “You can’t stop me little bird.”

“Who’re you talkin’ to, Jak?”

Jak was awake, and so was Cait. 

“Is Fahrenheit in here again? I fuckin’ swear, I’ll--”

“No one’s here, Cait, I just...bad dream.”

“Have those a lot, do ya?”

Jak turned over, the faint glimmer of Cait’s eyes before her. “I don’t really recall the last time I had a good dream.”

“I hear ya on that one...not much good to dream about, is there?”

“I dream about you,” Jak whispered.

“Good dreams?”

Jak didn’t reply for a moment, unsure of how to explain the strange visions she got so often. “Sometimes I don’t know what they are.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel loved,” Cait...joked?

“Loving’s hard,” Jak confessed. “I never really...figured it out. Someone making me happy, while I make them happy.”

“It just sorta happens.” Cait nestled a little deeper into her pillow, but her eyes were still on Jak.

“But what if I stop making them happy?”

“I think you still make them happy. Sometimes you just hurt them at the same time.”

It pained Jak to hear Cait say that so knowingly, essentially admitting that yes, Jak was hurting her. She resented herself, in that moment, in a way that she never had before. Jak wondered if Cait could see the tears rolling down her face, damping her pillow beneath her cheek. “How do I change that?”

“You just...try.”

“And if I can’t?”

“You will.”

* * * *

As if her complications with Cait weren’t enough, Jak woke up that morning feeling particularly like an ass for the way she attacked Fahrenheit the night before. Not to be mistaken for regret, she certainly didn’t regret it. On the contrary, she felt great. Maybe Fahrenheit got the message. 

No, she mostly felt like an ass to Hancock. He’d been nothing but good to Jak all this time and it seemed like she was constantly some source of controversy or frustration. As much as she despised Fahrenheit, assaulting the mayor’s right hand, unfortunately, wasn’t the best idea. So, Jak thought it was only fair for her to go apologize to Hancock.

  
  


“Heeey,” Hancock greeted Jak, sounding as if he’d hit the Jet early. She wasn’t sure if Jet had a smell but there was definitely _ something _on the ghoul’s breath. “What’s up, Jak?”

“I came to, uh...” Jak let loose a groggy sigh. “I came to apologize.”

The mayor stood, almost frozen in place save for the slight sway of his body, staring at Jak blankly. “Oh!” His face lit up with understanding. “For last night? Shiiit, you don’t have to apologize for that one, doll. Fahrenheit was out of place.”

Glancing around, Jak noticed the right hand’s absence. “Yeah, well...so was I. It was just...a long day. That’s not an excuse but—”

“Jaaak, cut it out, man. Honestly, d’you ever apologize for things that are actually your fault?”

She decided not to tell Hancock that was _ literally _what she was doing, or at least trying to do. She wasn’t sure he was sound enough to grasp that.

“Hey, take a seat, would ya?”

“Oh, I should probably—”

“Nah, man, I wanna talk to you, just for a second.”

Hesitantly, she obliged.

“Now,” Hancock groaned as he slouched into the couch he frequented. “That whole thing with Fahrenheit? That’s on me. And I apologize. No--no, don’t,” he raised his hand before Jak could butt in. “My second-in-command shouldn’t be issuing death threats and setting traps for anyone in Goodneighbor. Naaah, that shit doesn’t fly here. So, I’m dealin’ with that. Don’t worry.”

Jak wasn’t going to meddle in the mayor’s affairs, so she hadn’t even intended to scope the matter, nor was she going to press Hancock for specifics on Fahrenheit’s consequences. Still, it satisfied her to know there were, in fact, going to be consequences. 

“Second thing I wanna apologize for is not takin’ you seriously.”

Jak raised her eyebrow. “What are you….”

“When you told me you were going to hunt down that Apex guy, I couldn’t take you seriously. That’s like saying Diamond City is going to take down the Institute.”

Jak only vaguely understood the threat of the Institute, but she knew how pathetic the City was, so the analogy retained some of its weight.

“When you told me you killed him, how you did it, I thought ‘Holy shit, she wasn’t playing.’ And then last night you told me he was alive, and I wanted to laugh, for thinking you actually killed him in the first place. I thought you had just been talkin’ some hot shit, and you were good at it, too.”

“Where is this going?”

“Just listen, just listen. Right after that, you summed up the entire process of how you handled him. And I knew, I knew then you weren’t fucking around, _ at all _. You had really done it. You had really taken Apex’s life.”

“Apparently I didn’t.”

“But you thought you did. For all intents and purposes, you did. The way you talked about it, so...shit, it was scary. Your eyes light up, man, like...I don’t know, storm clouds or something.”

Just like Cait had said. “Well...thanks? But what’s your—”

“My point is I like that. You handle things. Protect yourself. You got goals, you see to them, one way or another, and you don’t really give a shit about what anyone else thinks.”

As of late, Jak was finding that last bit to only partly be true.

“You’re gonna hunt him down again, aren’t you?”

Jak blinked a few times, caught a little off guard by the question. “I have no choice.”

“You do, you’ve just already made yours. You’re persistent.” He paused. “Y’know, I could use you here in Goodneighbor.”

“I’m...right here in Goodneighbor, so I guess that’s good, huh?”

Hancock rolled his eyes with a grin. “What if I told you you could be head of the Neighborhood Watch?”

Wait, what? “You mean like Fahrenheit is?”

“That could change, if you want it to.”

It had to be the chems talking. There’s no way Hancock would just replace Fahrenheit like that, with Jak of all people. Sure, he spoke highly of her, but he didn’t honestly want Jak to take over that position, did he? “Hancock, I-I can’t. I have to keep looking, and—”

“I knew you’d say that, Jak. Just think about it, will you?”

“I don’t think I will, I...I’m sorry.”

The mayor looked as if Jak had insulted all of Goodneighbor. “Well...why not?”

“Honestly? ‘Cause I don’t think you’re thinking straight, for one, and for two, that’s a lot of responsibility I don’t think I could handle. Not to mention Fahrenheit would have a stick up her ass about the whole thing.”

Hancock stared, that blank look on his face again. “Ahhh, you’re right Jak. The hell am I talking about? I just….” To Jak’s surprise, Hancock took off his hat for a moment and rubbed his head. “Shit, I guess I can’t believe Fahrenheit pulled that whole stunt and fuckin’ lied about it.”

“Even the people we trust the most will lie to us,” Jak muttered, both bitterly and regretfully.

“Sure how it seems, ain’t it?” He sighed, hanging his head for a moment. There was great sadness on his face when he next looked at Jak. “I really hope I’m not fuckin’ up letting you stay here, Jak.”

The way he said it...Jak couldn’t tell what he meant exactly. Was the mayor second-guessing himself? It was so unlike him. “So do I,” Jak said.

“Don’t take it personally, I just...guess I’m paranoid, yeah? I can’t sleep anymore, I can’t let my guard down. Even after all the measures we’ve taken recently, I’m terrified someone else is gonna hit us when we’re not looking. So...I never stop looking. Truth be told, I don’t even like your new friend bein’ here.”

“You’re not the only one,” Jak breathed.

The mayor chuckled. “I trust you, though. Currently, more than...anyone.”

“Don’t. You don’t even know who I am. Not really.”

“So who are you?”

She didn’t understand why but that question always drained the life from her, caught her breath in her throat. Maybe it was simply because she never had a good enough answer.

“Don’t worry, it took some chems, a dead man’s clothes, and a revolution for me to figure out who I was,” Hancock finished with a wink.

It was as if he just told some bizarre and cryptic inside joke that went over Jak’s head. She had no idea how to respond, so she simply made a point to stand up. “I oughta get goin’,” she told the mayor.

“That’s cool, man, thanks for talking with me.”

“Sure thing,” Jak said with a bit of a smile. As she left the room, something nagged at her. She turned around, facing the slightly surprised Hancock still slouching. 

“I watched as my parents were murdered in their sleep by Apex’s men. Until recently, I was alone ever since then, and I know now that I wasn’t the only one. He’s going to run this Wasteland if no one stops him. That’s why I have no choice.”

Hancock softly whistled in bewilderment. “I am truly sorry to hear that, Jak. If there’s anything you need….”

“I know,” Jak nodded slowly, staring at the floor in front of Hancock. She looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you love this chapter as much as I do :)

"Jak?"

“Hm?”

Cait rolled over sleepily, as she had been for the past hour or so.

Jak had wanted to ask what was keeping her up, but she didn’t want to disturb Cait from whatever potential slumber she’d fall into. Apparently, there was no slumber for her to fall into.

“What’s your real name?”

Now Jak rolled over, utterly surprised by this question. What made Cait think Jak wasn’t her real name? “Jak is my real name, Cait, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin’ about the name your parents gave you, silly. I’ve never met a girl named Jak before.”

“Well now you can say you have.” Jak yawned. “It’s late, Cait, c’mon.” She could make out Cait’s face, staring at her. “What’s keepin’ you up, huh?”

Cait sighed, moving to lay on her back, staring at the dark ceiling. “I just can’t sleep, I don’t know. It happens when I don’t have any Psycho for a while….” Her hands were resting on her chest, fingers drumming sporadically.

Jak slipped her hand through one of Cait’s. “I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t be. Never know when I’ll fuck up and disappoint you. Best not to invest your hope in me yet.”

“Hey, don’t say that shit,” Jak said. Still holding Cait’s hand, she propped herself up with one arm.“You’re not a disappointment.”

“You sure looked at me like I was the other night.”

“Cait—”

“Jak, I don’t know if you know what bein’ an addict is like. But I made my choice to start usin’ and I made my choice to keep usin’. This shite? It’s me own fault. No point in throwin’ me a pity party, I just gotta work through it.”

“What’s wrong with me telling you I’m proud of you for working through it?”

“I just...I dunno, it makes me feel...weaker.”

“But you know you’re not weak.”

Bitterly, Cait snorted.“I know you think I’m not weak.” The redhead sat up, leveling her gaze with Jak.

“Because I know you _ aren’t _weak. You’ve been through some shit, man, and you’re still standing. Surviving for the sake of surviving, remember that? That takes strength, strength you got. Listen,” and Jak grabbed both of Cait’s hands now, easing her forehead so that it was touching Cait’s. “You’re right, I don’t get it. I think we oughta try to get each other a little better.”

Cait’s face hardened for a brief moment, the muscles in her forehead going rigid against Jak’s. 

Jak, however, did not notice. “I’ve never done chems or anything. But I don’t think it makes you any less of a person, or any weaker, just because you do.”

Cait pulled away with a sad sigh. “Jak, I really don’t think you...wait, you’ve never done chems?”

For some stupid reason, Jak felt herself blushing. Why the hell? “Well...no.”

“How’ve you made it without tryin’ _ anything _?”

“I...guess I’ve always trusted my parents when they told me not to try anything like that.”

“But you’ll get blackout drunk or kill people no problem, huh?”

Cait said it teasingly, and Jak knew that. It was hilarious, because she made a good point, but something about it...gnawed at Jak. “That’s...that’s different. I had to kill. Have to. And drinking, shit, that was just...to help tell the story.”

“You don’t have to kill everyone.”

“Don’t start, Cait, please.”

“I’m jokin’, love. Calm down.” Cait pressed her head back against Jak’s.

Dejectedly, Jak sighed. 

“What were they like? Your parents?”

Jak closed her eyes, not expecting to be taken back to that time so quickly, on the simple whim of a question. But there she was, where she never wanted to be again. Somehow, retrospectively, it seemed safer. The chainlink cage, the hard and cracked dirt beneath her bare feet. The breeze, warm and dry, gently tugging at the rags meant to imitate clothing. She would sit there, scraping little drawings into the ground with rocks, while her father told her stories of the monsters he’d seen before he was caught. And her mother would scold him, saying it would frighten her. He’d tell her mother their daughter ought to know what the world is like outside, because she wasn’t going to do that in a cage. Her mother would get teary eyed for a moment, nod, turn away.

There were times when her father would sing to her, that damn sunshine song, and her mother would mess with her hair. Often Jak found herself being hugged to her mother’s body, probably as much for her own good as for her mother’s. Some days her father would get agitated, poking and prodding the same spots on the fence that he was convinced were weak, flawed, their key to freedom despite the collars on their necks. He never found any way out, and he knew he never would, but Jak often wondered anymore if it was simply something he would do to keep sane. 

Times when the nights would be cold, inside the cold metal cage, beneath the cold, heartless moon, and the three of them would huddle together, shivering. She couldn’t recall sleeping much, and she didn’t think her parents did either. They grew used to it, especially with the way the slavers would randomly rattle their cages, scaring the slaves awake, greeting their bleary and frightened faces with taunting, mocking laughter, or spit. A few of them found joy in taking it even further with even less pleasant substances.

Times when her mother would be forced out of the cage, sometimes dragged by the hair, kicking and screaming. She’d come back a little while later, shaking, covered in sweat, silent. Jak never did understand what would happen to her, but she knew her father did, knew they hurt her somehow, the way he’d fume and rage. He would try to fight the slavers, but they always made him pay, or threatened to with a gun pointed at his loved ones, just to keep him in line. As for Jak, she never could remember what they did to her. She was startled she remembered this much at all, enough to describe it all to Cait, who kept grimacing and frowning as Jak spoke, some of it with an air of familiarity.

Only when she stopped talking did she notice the wetness of her cheeks, her eyelashes sticking together with tears.

“I’m sure they loved you very much, Jak,” murmured Cait as she embraced Jak.

Jak’s body gave a great heave, and then she was sobbing into her lover’s arms. She could only keep the dam up for so long, she’d just never had anyone to open it to. She looked up at Cait, holding the girl’s face in her hands.

“My parents named me Jaqueline. It’s...not surprising, I guess, considering I didn’t do much to change it, but...I...I needed to be someone different, but still...keep a part of that all with me. For them.” 

“It’s a beautiful name, ya know?”

Jak shrugged, at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say? It wasn’t really her name, not anymore. She almost felt guilty, almost, as if she severed the remaining tie she had with her parents. 

“There’s nothin’ special about me name,” Cait went on nonchalantly. “_ Cait. _ I’ve heard that name lots of times. Even heard it on a couple of guys.”

“It’s funny how we give names to boys and girls differently, ain’t it?”

Cait scratched a spot on her cheek. “I...suppose so? I don’t really think about it.”

“Well, right, but part of the reason I picked Jak as my name was ‘cause...like...it was a guy’s name, it felt like another layer of...separation from who I was.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Jak nodded, propping her head on her hand.“You ever wanted to change your name?”

Cait opened her mouth, closed it, sniffed awkwardly. “I’ve never felt like...like I should, I guess. It’s sort of the opposite of you. After um…” she coughed. “After all that, it sort of felt like it was only fair. Like a price to pay for me deeds. The only thing keeping me tied to me parents is me name, so...I’ve kept it.” She inhaled, then paused, as if she was...holding her breath? “No, no yeah, that’s...that’s it,” she said, on an exhale. “I mean it’s not a bad name, it’s who I am, I wouldn’t wanna change it anyways. It’s--”

“I get it, man, you’re okay.” Jak felt her cheeks curving as she smiled. “For what it’s worth, I like your name.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.”

“No, I like it, it’s special.”

“Shut the hell up,” Cait laughed.

“No, it is, it is.”

“Only because you love me.”

“Do I need any more of a reason?”

Cait appeared to be blushing, but Jak couldn’t tell for certain.

“My parents must’ve thought it was special,” Cait grumbled. “They butchered the bloody thing.”

“Whatcha mean?”

“They spelled it C-a-i-t”

Jak made a face as if she were waiting for someone to tell her the punchline to a joke. “Okay?”

“Jak, that’s a fuckin’ horrible way to spell it,” Cait said, though the smile on her face betrayed her animosity. “They coulda done it simpler, like K-a-t-e, or something.”

“I like C-a-i-t.”

“I know you do.”

“Hey, I spell mine J-a-k.”

“See, ya took one damned letter out of your name and it sounds cool.”

“Cool, huh?”

“Yeah, like some big action hero or somethin’, from one of those comic books.”

Leaning closer in mock intrigue, Jak smirked. “Is that what I am?”

“Might as well be,” Cait shrugged.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cait just shook her head, hiding it in their blankets.

“I can’t believe we’re talking about the spellings of our fucking names,” Jak giggled as she let herself fall back. Narrowly, she missed the headboard, causing her to giggle even more. Suddenly she felt...giddy, at ease. Talking about shit just for the sake of talking, it was great. “We should do this more often, Cait.”

“Talk?” Cait looked genuinely confused as she remerged from the blanket. “We...talk all the time.”

“About random things though, we don’t do that a lot. It’s always about…” 

Both girls’ expressions faded as their eyes met.

“...stuff,” Jak finished.

“So uh, what else could we talk about, then?”

“Well...what’s Irish?”

Cait snorted as she laughed. “_ What _?”

“I’m serious,” Jak said, playfully smacking Cait’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “So serious.”

“You’re serious?”

Jak raised her eyebrows, grinning. 

“Well...you know there’s like...different types of people, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I do, people from different countries and whatever.”

“Right. That’s all Irish is. Anyone whose parents were from a place called Ireland.”

“Just like...Americans? Came from where we are now, what used to be America or whatever.”

“Yes,” Cait chuckled.

“Hey don’t laugh, man, fuck you.”

“I’m not laughin’ at ya, more like...with ya.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Beats me!”

Both girls burst into a fit of bubbly and ridiculous laughter, despite the heaviness of their eyelids and the tired burn of the eyes beneath them. Jak couldn’t stop herself, several times almost stopping before something in Cait’s face made her laugh again. Her stomach hurt, a _ lot _, and she was...Jak was crying!

“Cait, I’m fuckin’ crying!”

“It’s what happens when you laugh too much!”

“Really?” Jak was genuinely in disbelief. No one had ever made her laugh this much, it was...strange. Unreal. “I never knew that.” 

“Your eyes are huge,” Cait said, stifling another laugh. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“That!” Cait cried, laughing once more.

“Are we going insane?” Jak choked out, gasping for breath.

“I don’t think anyone’s sane, Jak.”

  
  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

Jak had seen snow all her life, though it usually meant the beginning of harder, darker times, some harbinger of winter and the troubles to come. In the cages, it meant huddling together with her parents in one shivering mass wasn’t unique to nights anymore. Of course, the slavers didn’t want their laborers, their merchandise, dead, only miserable and completely broken. So they’d hand out extra blankets, mostly remnants of tattered fabrics and clothing, indistinguishable from the rags they wore, only to rip them back as soon as winter passed. Out in the Wasteland, if she was with a caravan, she’d stay close to the fire. But on her own? Never a fire, too risky, she might as well have shot a flare into the sky. Usually she’d light an old oil lamp, put it somewhere the light wouldn’t be too bright. It kept her warm enough, seeing as she survived every winter she ever faced. 

So the acridity of burning lamp oil filling the hotel room was familiar to Jak as she awoke. 

An underwear-clad Cait was peering through gaps in the boards across the window until she heard Jak stirring. “Jak! It’s snowing!”

“Yeah, it does that, Cait,” Jak yawned. She wrapped their blankets around her similarly unclothed body. “It’s so cold in here.”

Screwing up her face, Cait said “Yeah, it does that, Jak,” in a comical impersonation of the girl. 

“I’m going back to sleep,” Jak announced in mock offense, and she made a big show of drawing the blankets around her like a shell and throwing herself down into the bed. 

Popping her head under the blankets, Cait nodded, an impressed expression on her face. “Nice place ya got here. Can I come in?”

Jak stared at the redhead, eyes narrowed. “Why should I let you?”

“‘Cause I’m gonna come in anyways,” and with that, Cait squeezed in to lie next to Jak.

There the two laid, beneath the heap of blankets. They held up enough of the mass so they could see each other, their heads existing in a cozy cave of sorts.

“It’s pretty warm in here, ain’t it?” Cait said.

Jak could see the traces of a smirk playing on the corner of Cait’s lips. “Warm, but I think we can make it even hotter.” The words were like fire, sparking those emerald eyes of Cait’s. 

“That was awful,” Cait said, amused.

Jak sat up, positioning herself over Cait in a way that held the blankets over them so she could get a clear view as she stroked the girl’s face and trailed a hand down her body. “Was it?” Jak purred.

Continuing, as if unphased, Cait nodded and began to say, “You really oughta get better at--” before the words faded into a gasp as Jak’s hand found its destination.

* * * * 

Admittedly, Jak forgot about Styx sometimes, so when they showed up at Jak and Cait’s door, Jak almost pulled a gun on them.

Styx somehow didn’t notice though, as they were scribbling on a pad of yellowed paper rapidly. They revealed the words, written in blue ink. “We need information. Where is Apex? Need to decide what we do next.”

The rest of the writing seemed to blur as Jak found herself focused on that one word, that one name and the seething resentment it drew up from within her. She blinked herself out of it. “I...we should do something, yeah. We’ll talk to Hancock, see if there’s been anything strange to report.” She looked to Cait. “After that, we could wander outside a little bit. Scout, pick up anything useful we might find.”

Cait rolled her eyes, void of any playfulness, grumbling. “So much for not searching for him.”

“What are we supposed to do then, Cait?” Jak said, tilting her head in exasperation.

“Anything but this!”

“And just let him get away with what he’s doing?”

“What is he doing that no other asshole does, Jak? I don’t see you goin’ after all the slavers that had you locked up.”

“That was years ago, I don’t know where the hell they are, or I would!” said Jak, throwing her hands up. “But Apex is here, Apex is _ now _ , and I can actually do something about it!” _ But you’re holding me back _, Jak decided was better left unsaid. She could feel her resentment leaking onto Cait and she hated it, but Cait just--

An aggressive tapping sound brought the girls’ attention back to Styx, who was smacking their notepad that said, “Do not need to argue. I will go alone if that is better. Just want to do something.”

“C’mon Cait, we _ do _need supplies anyways. Let’s go out and look.”

“Fine,” Cait said, shaking her head. “Fine, whatever.”

* * * *

The Commonwealth always had a fake sort of beauty about it when covered in snow. There wasn’t much of it this time, but enough to glitter in the dull sunlight. She never did figure out how it did that, sparkle like thousands of tiny, cold stars. Nor could she understand the swirl of breath as she spoke to the brisk air. Vaguely she remembered…well, someone telling her it had to do with cold air and hot air and a bunch of shit she didn't care to understand. When she really thought about it, Jak didn't know much about how exactly the world worked, science or whatever. Someone taught her the basics a long time ago, but it was too much for her to grasp. She wasn't stupid, but admittedly wasn't the most knowledgeable, wasn't book smart, as Cait said.

“I’m not either, so don’t worry about it. Plenty of people are smart, but not a lot of ‘em know how to survive. That counts for more than anythin’ out here.”

Jak had to agree, instantly thinking of Diamond City. She couldn’t imagine a single one of them could make it a day outside of the walls.

“Ugh,” she said aloud without meaning to, earning a strange look from Cait. “I was just thinking, about Diamond City.”

“Why would you do that?” Cait snorted.

Jak shrugged with a smile.

Styx walked beside Jak, staring wondrously around as if they had never seen these parts of town before. 

Jak didn’t feel like they had been outside of home very often, judging by their eagerness to be traveling. They were young, maybe even younger than herself, though probably not by much. Staring at them, Jak found a few questions she wasn’t actually going to ask them.

For starters, Styx was bald. 

This was only odd to Jak because she had never seen someone so young be so...well, bald. So she had to fight the burning desire to ask exactly _ why _Styx was bald, or if they got cold easily, reprimanding herself for wanting to ask such about such ridiculous things. Add them to the list of bullshit she thought of.

The main question was in regard to Styx’s gender, or...whatever it was called. How could someone not know if they were a boy or a girl? What was Styx _ really _? Jak couldn’t honestly tell, and it didn’t make her uncomfortable, it just...enthralled her? She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t interesting, the idea that someone just...isn’t one or the other? Or are they both? Shit, it confused her.

“Jak?”

Blinking, Jak grinned, too broadly. “Yeah?”

“I said where should we go now?” Cait raised her eyebrow.

Jak paused, eyes widened, then slowly nodded as she gathered their surroundings. 

Well damn.

“The pond? Really?” Jak hated being here.

“We’ll go around it, just where?”

“Well…” Jak was trying to decide, when Styx tapped her on her shoulder.

“Something wrong with pond?” they wrote.

“Uh...there’s a monster inside of it.”

Jak wasn’t sure what kind of reaction to expect but it was definitely not the one Styx had. Instead of showing any signs of fear, joy and intrigue flashed across their face.

“What are you--” Jak began slowly, before….

Styx ran towards the pond.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Cait demanded after them, but they weren’t listening.

Their robe flapped behind them as they bounded through the snow, smiling delightedly as they neared the pond. They stumbled as their foot sank into a ribcage buried beneath the cold white blanket, but they kicked it off. 

Jak and Cait were in a jog after Styx when the Enigma slowed to a halt at the edge of the pond. It was frozen, Jak realized, though she couldn’t tell how stable the ice was. 

Neither could Styx. Gingerly, they tested the ice with a careful step.

“Styx! Get back here!” Jak snapped.

Styx pressed on, one gentle step after another. 

“Styx!” Cait chimed in. 

The Enigma slowly crouched down, towards the center of the pond now. 

“Come _ on _ Styx!” Jak snarled. “This shit might break and I am _ not _coming in to save your ass.”

Without a glance in her direction, Styx waved Jak’s words away. They bent over, hands cupped around their face. 

“What are they doing?” Cait sighed.

“I...don't know,” Jak said, watching them brush a patch of ice clear of snow.

They looked through the ice for a moment longer, and then flung themselves backwards. 

Jak was about to question the behavior, but Styx looked at her, now with fear in their eyes.

“What is it?”

Styx motioned her forward, then pointed at the clear patch of ice. 

“Styx, let’s go,” Cait said, crossing her arms. 

Styx continued to gesture to them.

“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Jak under her breath. She tread carefully but quickly across the ice, impatient. Styx was wasting time, and it was cold as hell out here, despite the scarf and long sleeves she was wearing, gifted from the mayor. “What is it, Styx?” She looked through the ice, feeling the chill of it seep through her hands. All she could make out in the frozen murk was the head of one of the swan boats. She shivered, and not because of the cold. “Styx, we need to get away from here. That’s the monster.” 

As Jak stood up, Styx slowly looked back into the ice once more.

A strange sound came from...somewhere. A rumble, but a whine, but a bit of a creak….

“Uh...Jak?” Cait called out tentatively.

Jak realized what the noise was as it grew suddenly louder, and a crack appeared right beneath them. “Styx, _ now _. The ice is breaking.”

They nodded hastily, and the two started towards the edge of the pond. The cracking of the ice was growing louder, and the glance over her shoulder told Jak the cracks were following them. 

“You guys gotta get off of there!” Cait worried.

“Thanks, Cait,” Jak said through chattering teeth. Just a little farther….

A sound like a dozen mongrels snapping their jaws crashed in Jak’s ears. She felt the ice beneath her feet start to give way as she leaped towards Cait. She teetered on the edge as she tried to gain her balance, but Cait pulled her away to catch her from falling into the crumbling surface. 

“Styx,” she began, “don’t ever_ \-- _ oh, _ fuck me _!”

Styx was flailing in the icy water, trying their best to stay afloat amongst the thin sheets of ice bobbing in the torrent, but it was no use and Jak knew this. Knowing she’d probably regret what she was about to do, she tossed her pack behind her and dove into the water after them. 

It made sense that Styx didn’t know how to swim, if Jak’s theory that they’d rarely left that junkyard was accurate at all. Jak tried her best to avoid water, especially because prolonged contact with it made her feel like shit for some reason, the radiation maybe, but she still knew how to swim. It was one of the few things she didn’t actually get to teach herself. Still, swimming in freezing water was a sensation she’d never experienced, not that she ever needed to to begin with. For a moment, every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire, or how Jak imagined that to feel. But then she felt...nothing, actually. She was quickly losing feeling in her limbs, struggling to wrap an arm around Styx and push them to the surface. She kicked through the water with all the strength she could muster, trying to propel herself with her free, stiffening arm. She broke the surface, choking on the burst of cold air that filled her lungs. Her jaw was quivering faster than some of the automatic guns she’d seen before. She wildly groped the concrete ledge bordering the water, but it was slick with its own frozen glaze. 

“Jak!” Cait cried as she dropped to her hands and knees, attempting to ground her knees into the snow to avoid keeling head first. She reached out for Jak, fingers splayed with strain.

Jak grabbed for Cait’s hand with her own, shaking and numb. She slipped, but a moment later, their fingers clasped together. Jak could see them turning white with the pressure they were holding onto each other with, but she could only remotely feel it. She saw Cait grit her teeth, saw veins pressing in her neck as the girl attempted to drag the other two’s waterlogged bodies from the water. Meanwhile, Styx was coughing and gasping the whole time, wrapped around Jak as if their life depended on it...which it did. Cait was grasping Jak’s arm with both of hers, stepping to her feet as she pulled and pulled. Jak was about halfway up the edge when she did her best to hoist Styx over, and finally they were able to pull themselves up.

Jak collapsed into Cait, Styx sprawled a little off the side. Jak sighed, part relief and part response to how fucking cold she was now. Layers didn’t matter when they were all soaked through. 

Styx hoisted theirself up and fished for their notepad in their robe. Their face fell as they pulled out a dripping hunk of paper. With a disgruntled sigh, they chucked it into the pond. 

Privately, Jak wasn’t sure what the Enigma honestly expected. She watched as Styx began writing with their finger in the snow. 

“You saved my ass.”

Jak met their eyes, surprised by the sly grin they wore. “First of all, fuck you,” Jak said, though it came out a lot lighter than she expected, a lot gentler, a lot...kinder.

“So, no monster?” wrote Styx.

“I guess not.”

“Shite, shite, shite, Jak, look ou--”

Cait’s words were cut off by a car slamming into the ground several feet away.


	24. Chapter 24

The ball of flames that erupted from the car didn’t surprise Jak, as she’d seen how prone they were to blowing up. If she so much as breathed the wrong way around one, it would catch fire, and the thunderous explosion almost always attracted some manner of creature, normally ferals. 

Strangely enough, the guttural roar that shattered the glass-like cold of the air didn’t surprise her either, at least not as much as hindsight suggested it should have. She didn’t need Caits expletives or Styx’s near-faint to tell her what she’d see when she turned around. A hunk of concrete narrowly missing her head as it soared past only further confirmed that gut-wrenching recognition. 

It made sense that Swan, as it seemed to call itself, wouldn’t have allowed itself to freeze within the pond’s depths, and Jak felt silly for actually thinking it was big and dumb enough to do so. This creature was still a living being, thriving off of instinct.

“Fuckin’ _ run _!” Jak yelled as she pushed herself off the ground, scrambling to sling her pack back around her shoulders. She didn’t feel the cold anymore, but she wasn’t numb either. All she felt was the blood surge like fire through her veins, her heart pumping furiously as adrenaline and sheer terror fueled her escape. Almost distantly, something reminded her that she had abandoned her companions. She had assumed they would follow her retreat, because who wouldn’t? Still, she risked a glance over her shoulder. 

Sure enough, Styx and Cait were right behind Jak, the reason they were fleeing not far off. As big as Swan was, he ran a hell of a lot faster than Jak thought he should’ve been able to. Jak knew they were running off of borrowed time, that the hulking monster was bound to hurl something else at them, that he might not miss. Then she saw Trinity Tower, the familiar landmark near Diamond City. She couldn’t tell if super mutants were still camped in the tower, not that it really mattered regardless. She turned, taking the stretch of road that led to the Tower, then another turn past it. The steady rumble of Swan’s footsteps still followed close behind. 

“Where are we going?” Cait shouted amidst the noise as another piece of debris was tossed their way. 

“Diamond City!” Jak replied, leading the other two between buildings and across side roads, trying her damnedest to weave a confusing path for Swan to follow. He was hard to lose, with the advantage of height to look down on their every move. 

They passed the first turret, and before it had the chance to spring to action, it got crushed as Swan trampled by. Jak recognized this stretch as they ran past the junkyard mongrel dogs frequented. Another car exploded behind the group, and Jak hoped to herself that the other heaps of scrap didn’t have it in them to blow up. A second turret found its target and began rattling off its store of bullets. For a brief moment, Jak questioned how the machines recognized enemies and why she hadn’t been fired at before. 

But she’d done it, led Swan to Diamond City’s gates. She didn’t intend any harm for the place, but she knew there was always a swarm of guards patrolling the area, better equipped to take on the beast than she was. Sure enough, they quickly took the defensive, shooting at Swan’s face. Swan grabbed it with one hand, and swung his anchor maul with the other. The anchor hit the ground with a shuddering impact, breaking a hole into concrete, now red with the smashed remains of a guard. 

“Are we gonna help ‘em?” Cait asked Jak, as they kept running despite the fight happening. The only answer she received was a distant stare. “Jak, what are you doing?”

“Looking out for us,” she said without looking over her shoulder. It was true, she wasn’t going to stop for those guards. They could handle themselves, and Swan was sounding rather distressed at this point. 

“Well, where are we going now?”

Jak slowed to a jog, very familiar with the way now.

* * * *

A corpse in the stairwell wasn’t exactly what Jak expected to greet her when she returned to her home. By the looks of it, the guy was just some scavver, not unlike Jak on the surface. It was evident her traps served their purpose, as a bear trap was still fast around the man’s ankle and a crimson hole on his chest broke the surface of his clothing, indicating the hidden pistol worked as she intended it to. 

Beside her, Cait whistled. “I still don’t understand how you pick your way through this shite.”

“You get used to it,” Jak said as she rifled through the man’s pockets. “Two steps here, one step there, three here. It’s like...clockwork, that’s the saying, right?”

Cait shrugged. 

“The annoying part is setting it all up again.” Jak stopped on the landing. “You doin’ alright, Styx?”

Styx looked up, as if surprised to hear their name. They gave an uncertain smile.

“We can rest when we get up top,” Jak assured, smiling at Styx’s gracious nod.

“Are we gonna have room?” Cait asked as they made the ascent. “There’s only two mattresses.”

“That one is huge, though. We can share. Unless,” Jak sighed exaggeratedly, “you don’t wanna be with me.”

“Shut up,” Cait giggled, giving Jak one of her arm-breaking playful punches. 

When Jak reached her room, she could feel something was extremely off. Maybe it was how the mattresses looked more askew than usual, or the blanket more jumbled up, or the chest lid not quite shut. She was going to chalk it up to things simply feeling strange because she’d been away for so long, but the emptiness of her chest suggested otherwise. It was full of hollow cans and bottles, and suddenly Jak wondered how long that fucker on the stairs had been here. It looked like he crashed here until all of her supplies were gone, then slipped up on his way out. It would’ve been amusing if she wasn’t staring at a bunch of trash in place of her belongings.

“Well, shite,” Cait muttered, peering over Jak’s shoulder.

“I guess we’ll stay here for the night. It’s too cold to head back out, and we lost a lot of time trying not to drown in ponds or be crushed by monsters.” Even as she said the words, the faint pop of gunfire and Swan’s agonized and guttural screams broke through the silence. The cold chewed her face raw and stabbed tiny blades all over her wet-clothed body. She hadn’t noticed how violently she was shivering until now, and it felt like that’s all she could do.

“Jak, if you don’t get out of those clothes, you’re gonna get hypothermia.”

“Hypo-what?” she chattered.

“You could die.”

“Well, I knew that,” she said, trying to make the muscles of her face smile. “I don’t know what to change in to. And I don’t have anything for Styx either.”

Styx looked how Jak felt: miserable. Their entire body shuddered and they were blankly staring at the floor.

“Might be better just to start a fire and stay close to it,” Cait reasoned. “It’s better than not havin’ any bloody clothes at all.”

True, being naked in the cold wasn’t the most ideal scenario, but Jak was pretty sure she’d kill to get out of her clothes. Alternatively, she’d love to lay against Cait, sharing bodies...but primarily body heat. She pushed that thought away as she really had no time to be fantasizing. “I don’t have anything to start a fire with.”

“Nothin’ in your bag?”

_ Her bag _! She forgot it was even around her back. She clumsily took it off her shoulders, kneeling to look through it. Cait and Styx followed suit, gazing anticipatorily as Jak scattered the pack’s contents across the floor. A couple bottles of water, a can of...something, and a couple stimpaks. They weren’t planning to be gone but an hour, but then again, that was before Styx got curious.

“Fuck,” sighed Cait as she stood up. “Look, I’m just gonna go downstairs and scrounge up some shite to burn, okay?” She scanned the room for a moment, crossing it and picking up Jak’s blanket and sleeping bag. “Use these for now.” She set them between Jak and Styx, then took off her army jacket. “This too.”

“Cait, that’s y--”

“Hush it,” she interjected. “I’ll be back.”

So it was her choice to decide what to give to Styx. She wouldn’t pretend that she didn’t want all of it. She didn’t mind Styx too much, but she had looked out for them enough for the day. Still, something nagged at her until she finally tossed the sleeping bag over to Styx. “Wrap up in this. It’s better than nothin’.”

Styx nodded, a small smile indicating, maybe, gratitude. 

Groaning, Jak put on Cait’s jacket. It was a little big on her, meaning either her theory that Cait really was taller than her was true, or it already fit loosely on Cait to begin with. She felt the cold and damp seep from her clothes into the jacket, but whatever. She reminded herself it was better than nothing.

Wrapping her threadbare blanket around herself, she noticed Styx stretching to drag their finger through a patch of snow.

“Where are we?” they wrote.

“My home.”

Styx wiped their words away, then patted the snow flat again. “I thought your home was town with strange guards?”

Jak wasn’t sure what was strange about the Neighborhood Watch compared to the Enigma, but she found herself wanting to smile. “That’s my home away from home, I guess.”

As they nodded slowly, a puzzled look grew on their face. They fixed Jak with furrowed brows.

“So...I live here," Jak began, attempting to clear the other's confusion. "I like it here. It’s my home. But the town, Goodneighbor, I like it too. I’d live there if I didn’t live here. It’s like a second home.”

They nodded again with a more understanding expression. 

“Do you have a home away from home?” Wait, what the hell was she doing? Having an actual conversation with someone who wouldn’t talk back, someone who she didn’t even fully trust, she had to admonish herself. Still, what was the harm in just...talking?

“I do not think so. Do not really think I have home.”

“What about the junk--I mean, camp?” 

Thinning their lips, they shook their head. 

“Home’s overrated,” Jak said with a frown. “‘Long as you have yourself, you don’t need anyone else.”

“Oh, I get it,” Cait said mockingly as she entered the room with an armful of broken wood, planks and chunks and broken furniture legs. A jumble of clothes was sitting on top of the wood. “Don’t need me anymore, is that right?” She made a show of dumping the wood in the middle of the room, grinning the whole time. “Guess I could’ve left you in that pond,” she said, tossing some of the clothes to Jak. “I don’t know if these will fit but it’s what I could find. Here, Styx,” and she offered the clothes to Styx.

They took them reluctantly, as if unsure of what they were supposed to do with them. 

Jak was already in the middle of clawing out of her clothes when Cait cleared her throat loudly. Turning around, tugging at a sleeve that felt attached to her arm, she noticed Styx looking very uncomfortable. Right. People apparently weren’t as open as Jak was. She should’ve learned that from Cait's first time around her. “Just turn around, Styx,” she sighed. “No one’s gonna look.”

“I’m lookin’ at you,” Cait muttered as she walked past Jak, trailing a finger across her lover’s exposed belly. 

Jak shivered, but couldn’t tell how much it had to do with the cold. Probably a lot, all things considered. She pulled her way out of her pants, almost losing her balance before Cait grabbed her hand to steady her. Holding the clothes out in front of her, Jak assumed they would fit well enough. There was a green flannel, if that’s what they were called, missing half of its buttons, and a thin pair of brown pants. Apparently she had assumed wrong, as the flannel pulled taut against her shoulders, refusing to button, while the pants fell over in rolls past her bare feet.

“Yeah, I couldn’t really, uh, find anything for your guys’ feet,” Cait began apologetically. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Cait.” Jak gave her a long kiss. Then something cold and wet hit her. She whipped around to find Styx in a ratty red sweater that was far too big for them and baggy black pants. In their hand was a clump of the powdery snow they had been writing in. “Styx, what the fuck?”

They pointed to the snow on the floor. “Thank you for everything,” it said.

* * * *

“I really missed our bed,” Cait murmured sleepily.

“I missed you in our bed,” Jak breathed, running a hand through Cait’s hair.

“I’m sure you did,” Cait said with a smile.

When they had returned to Goodneighbor, they went straight to the Hotel, exhausted. None of them had gotten any actual rest the night before. Jak and Cait shared the large mattress and blanket, while Styx had the sleeping bag and smaller mattress. They got as close to the fire as they dared, and the wet clothes were even closer in hopes that they would be dry by the morning. They weren’t. At that moment, though, Jak didn’t care. Her only priority had been to get back to Goodneighbor. And hell, was it good to be back. Still….

“When it gets warmer again,” Jak began, “I wanna go back home.”

“We are home, Jak.”


	25. Chapter 25

“I’ve never had it bleed this long,” Cait explained to a worried Jak, her voice thick as she pinched her nose. “And I’ve had plenty of bloody noses in me life.”

“And you don’t know what happened?” 

“Nah, it’s probably just the cold though.”

Jak certainly hoped so. “Here, take this,” and she tossed Cait the small flannel she had worn the other night. “Your hand is soaked, man.”

“Oh shite,” Cait laughed as she removed her hand from her nose to hold the shirt up to it. 

“Do you think I should go get someone?” Jak asked, uncertain. She didn’t want to treat Cait like a child, but she’d never seen someone’s nose bleed for so long. Hers certainly never had like that.

“I’ll be fine, Jak, stop worryin’ so much.”

“It’s hard not to, you know.”

The moments after those words were rather heavy as they dragged by. Jak knew what they were both thinking about, but neither of them said it.

It only got harder not to worry about Cait after that. Things became progressively more worrisome. She would sleep much longer than usual, and was a pain in the ass to wake up. When she was awake, she was agitated, acting as if the world around her was nothing but a bother. That included Jak. Cait apologized endlessly, chalking it all up to a really nasty illness she’d probably need some time to get over. When she wasn’t agitated or apologizing, she was eating, sometimes more in a day than Jak had seen Cait eat _ ever _ . Yet there were days she wouldn’t eat at all, and Jak had to coax her into getting in _ something _.

Admittedly, Jak was scared. But she told herself she had to stay strong, had to be there for Cait, help her through whatever shit she was going through. Privately, Jak wondered if it had something to do with her cycle, but it had never been that bad before, not during the time she knew her. Everything aside, Cait was, what was the saying? Taking it like a champ. She always did manage to find some sort of positive, though sometimes she really reached to do so. Jak understood, though. Sometimes reaching was all that could be done.

* * * *

Jak was letting Cait rest for the day, spending the bitter, snowy morning using her dwindling caps supply on food, water, everything they needed but didn’t have. Gone was the small comfort of being able to make a days’ trip back home to a chest of supplies. Some asshole robbed that from her. Then again, it might’ve been her fault for leaving it unattended for so long. Or not trapped well enough. She would have to think on the latter.

Daisy had been keeping up a small conversation with her while she got together Jak’s supplies. 

“You were really around before the bombs fell?” Jak couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“I wouldn’t lie about it, hun, “ the woman said with a cheeky smile. “Every ghoul is.” 

Jak couldn’t believe it. Every ghoul? From before the war? “I...well...how?”

Daisy sighed, though it seemed more of a wistful gesture than an impatient one. “The bombs, they kinda put a bunch of crap in the air, radiation. Killed most folk, but some of us changed. Lotta weird stuff happens when you’re a ghoul.”

“Like living for 270 years,” Jak concurred. 

“Exactly.”

“What was it like before…?”

“Not much different,” Daisy chuckled. “Big folks wanted to kill each other while the small ones were just tryin’ to live. Not much different….”

Something about that sentiment disturbed Jak, the thought that the shit they lived in was anything at all like the world used to be. It just seemed...wrong, like it _ had _to be different. Jak opened her mouth to say as much, but Daisy interrupted.

“Hold that thought, what’s goin’ on there?”

Jak followed Daisy’s suddenly rigid expression towards the entrance of Goodneighbor. Hancock was walking behind two Watch guards headed towards the state house, a shotgun aimed at the back of a strange woman Jak had never seen before. Immediately, she could tell how out of place the woman was, and almost as immediately she realized why. 

The woman wore matted furs, cracked skins, bones, seemingly any piece of any corpse she could find. She carried herself loftily, despite her short height and disturbing appearance, even for the Wasteland’s standards. Then Jak saw them, the scars, intricate marks snaking up and around the woman’s rather exposed body. 

Why was a Bloodsworn at Goodneighbor? And why the _ fuck _was Hancock casually escorting her into the state house?

“Probably some raider skulking around again,” Daisy sighed. “I gotta give it to you, girl, Hancock’s been on top of things ever since you’ve been here.”

Ever since raiders followed her and slaughtered half of Goodneighbor just to find her. Of course Jak knew what Daisy was talking about. She wasn’t soon to forget it….

Jak noticed a Watch guard leave the state house and head towards her direction. 

He stared at her, stony-faced and silent until he was directly in front of her. “Mayor wants to see you.”

Slowly, she nodded, following the guard as he turned back. 

  
  


The state house was uncomfortably silent as they entered, amplifying each moan and groan of the ancient spiral staircase. The doors to Hancock’s usual retreat were slightly ajar, the low glow of lantern light peeking through the gap. Jak pushed one open with a creak.

“Jak, hey, doll.” Hancock attempted to sound warm and welcoming, but it was evident something was vexing him. Across from him sat the Bloodsworn woman, the two Watch guards behind the sofa. “This chick, uh...Tooth, has an...invitation?” He got up and approached Jak, leaning in. “I don’t trust this at all, Jak, be careful.”

“Invitation?” Jak demanded brusquely, looking past Hancock at the raider. 

“Yes,” she began, the hint of an accent evident in the single syllable. “You have caught our attention. We find you to be a formidable foe, worthy of the Predator’s blessing. As such, we have a proposal.” As Jak watched her speak, she noticed the Bloodsworn’s eyes were a startling blue, stark against her dark complexion. Her sable hair was a moderate length, tossed over her head, and resembled...ropes, or cables, that was the best way Jak could explain, for she’d never seen anyone’s hair quite like it. Scars peppered her face artistically, tracing below her eyes and down her chin, while red paint, or...blood...accentuated the markings. “Join us for a celebration, honoring the warriors of our tribe.”

Since when did raider groups refer to themselves as tribes?

“We would like to honor you, as well. The strife you have caused Apex is impressive, to say the very least.”

“The only warriors you’ll honor are gonna be _ dead _,” snarled Jak. She wasn’t falling for this kind of bullshit. Probably some trap Apex is setting out for her. “Hancock, get her outta here before I do.”

The woman remained diplomatic despite Jak’s threat. “I assure you, there will be no need for bloodshed. Not this time. We intend for only a night of...victory. Among friends.”

“Spare me.” Jak turned to walk away.

“You boys new? I don’t recognize you.”

Fahrenheit’s comment immediately froze Jak. It was common knowledge that Fahrenheit knew _ everyone _in the Watch, for better or worse.

“We’re new,” one of the guards muttered.

A sinister look took the girls face. “I haven’t hired new recruits in thirteen days.”

Before the words could register, Jak was on the ground, the Bloodsworn woman on top of her, fingers curled around her neck. Jak grasped to return the favor to the raider, but couldn’t quite reach. Instead, she swung her knee up, catching the raider in the back and knocking her off balance enough for an opening. Jak was finally able to get a hold on the raider’s throat with one hand while she fumbled for the knife in her pocket. As she drew the weapon, the raider slammed her head into Jak’s, effectively disorienting her. The window was just big enough for the raider to enter, and by the time Jak could fully grasp what was happening, she was on her feet, her knife skidding across the floor, with the raider holding a jagged blade to her throat. Behind them were the imposter guards, guns trained on Hancock and Fahrenheit. Both looked equal parts furious and bewildered, having been caught unawares for a second time now. Distantly, Jak wondered how badly this would mess with the mayor. He’d feel like a failure, no doubt.

“She will leave with us,” the raider growled. “You will not harm us. You will not follow us. Resist, and find yourself swimming in the ocean of your own blood.”

* * * *

She was lost. 

She was _ fucking _lost and had no idea where they were taking her.

No weapons, no supplies, no Cait, she had nothing but the clothes on her back, and even those were beginning to fail her. They had tied her up to a tree a few feet from the fire, the ground being cleared of snow. She was warm enough to stay alive, but cold enough to remain miserable. That’s how they wanted her, alive but miserable. They were fuckin’ successful. 

Her name was Tooth, that’s what the fake guards called her. The very leader of the Bloodsworn personally came to Goodneighbor to kidnap Jak, for, what? Bragging rights? Apex’s favor? There wouldn't be a celebration, she was just a token to them. Once she got free, she’d show them….

But that was it. How was she going to escape? Attempt to overpower one of them, risking her life in the process? Not that the alternative was appearing much better. She’d been ripping off small pieces of her clothes, leaving them behind as some kind of trail, but it was so easy to miss amongst the Wasteland’s rubble that no one would ever pick up on it. 

No one would ever pick up on it. How would anyone find her?

She was lost. No one would find her.

Rabid with the panic of that realization, Jak dragged the rope binding her wrists against the tree, over and over in an attempt to escape. Her arms grew tired with the motion, her wrists bled from the ragged fibers grating against her flesh, but no one noticed, as the trio was sleeping. So she continued, and after what felt like a lifetime she felt the tree’s bark scraping directly against her skin. The rope had torn away, and she hadn’t noticed. 

She was free. 

She wrapped a length of the rope around both hands, pulling it taut between them. She stood up with stiff legs, shaking. Her stomach was convulsing with the adrenaline and nerves of what she was about to do next.

It was surprisingly easy. Holding the rope against the Bloodsworn’s throat. Didn’t know his name. One of the fake guards. Jak was behind him, pulling, tugging. His hands flailed against her arms as he choked. As his throat gurgled and croaked. Begging for air. Gurgled and croaked. Like her parents. Were they easy? 

Then blood covered her hands. Made no sense. There was no blood. She choked him to death. Didn’t slice his throat. But there was a knife. Her parents drowning face-down in pools of red. Blooming within their sleeping bags. A little girl was screaming. Such a bloodcurdling, ear piercing scream. Hands reaching out for her. Stars exploding in her eyes. Pain through her skull. She was falling. Slamming into the ground. Then...nothing.

  
  



	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very brief suicidal ideation!
> 
> (I'm well aware my warnings are rather spotty, but hey :| )

Jak never thought she’d be in a cage again.

But as the door slid open with the grating of metal on metal, flooding the lightless boxcar with the cold glare of another lost winter day, there truly was nothing else to call it.

“Eat,” commanded the man who had been tasked with tossing Jak warped cans of shit hardly passing as edible. 

The first time it happened she lunged for him, but he knocked her down easily, like taking a brick to the gut. The third time, she caught it and chucked the can right back at him. It came hurtling back at her, narrowly missing her head. The fifth time, she hid just out of sight, preparing to bolt when the door opened. She would have, had she not found herself staring at two blade-wielding guards, a sneer toying with the corner of the Eat Man’s mouth. She counted fourteen times he’d been there, half during the day, half during the night. A whole week had passed and already she knew there was no getting out of this, not on her own.

This time the can hit the floor behind Jak, the vibrations shuddering against her body, curled up and still. Then, with a loud screech, it was dark again.

She spent what must have been hours at a time like that, plotting and scheming to no avail. She was utterly helpless for the first time in a very long time, and on the verge of hopelessness. For some stupid reason she kept thinking Hancock was going to find her, Cait was going to find her. She’d even take Fahrenheit, assuming this wasn’t somehow connected to her to begin with.

But no one would come. How would they find her?

“They wouldn’t,” she whispered to the dark. 

* * * *

“I dunno if I can take this anymore, Styx.”

Cait had been babbling on and off to the Enigma at her bedside keeping her company. Naturally, Styx had very little to respond with, jotting short replies down on a fresh pad of paper Hancock had fetched for them. The last dozen or so consisted simply of the words “I know,” valid responses to the random comments Cait kept making.

“Hancock still can’t find her. It’s been a week!” Cait sat up in the bed for probably the hundredth time. “It’s been longer than that and I’m still fuckin’ sick.”

Styx was looking at their robes, unsure of what to say.

“The last time I was this bad, I…” She hadn’t had any Psycho, Cait realized. It only ever happened once before. Tommy insisted she quit using the shite, said she’d be a better fighter without it. Clearer head, quicker reflexes, more energy. He had someone watch her wherever she went, making sure she wasn’t sneaking it in, even when she was trying to sleep. Of course, that came with its own set of issues to deal with, people getting touchy or worse. But when she wasn’t high, there was nothing else for her to feel except...well, pain. The old emotional stuff would rip her guts out while the fresh breaks and bruises kept her alive. It caught up to her fast, though, and she’d start coughing, find herself unable to sleep. But it was never as bad as now. Now was the worst she’d ever felt. 

“Do you need anything?” Styx wrote.

“So much,” Cait sighed. Starting with Jak. Jak, she just missed Jak. When she wasn’t worrying about the girl’s life, Cait was imagining Jak with her still, in her arms, in the bed, in the room. Sometimes she thought she caught a glimpse of her walking by, those few times Cait forced herself to go out and get some fresh air, and every time she silently reprimanded herself for being so irrational. She didn’t really feel like she could help it, though. She couldn’t stop the dreadful thoughts that crossed her mind, thoughts involving questions with answers she loathed giving. She often thought about that night a couple weeks ago, when her and Jak just...talked, and she often fought with herself when a particularly forbidden wonder crossed her mind.

What if she never got to do that again?

* * * *

Tooth hadn’t lied to Jak. There really was a celebration.

What’s more, the pounding in her ears hadn’t been her imagination. As the door slid open, and she was led out into the night by the Eat Man with guards flanking her, she found herself in the midst of...music, a din unlike anything she’d ever heard in her life. Certainly nothing like the jovial pre-war tunes that played throughout the Commonwealth. This was aggressive, invigorating. Deep, thunderous percussion paired against higher pitched, more metallic noises. Jak couldn’t yet see the source, but it grew louder as she was pressed forward to, presumably, the Bloodsworn camp.

Though camp seemed to put it lightly. Village seemed to better suit the sprawl of structures before Jak. Atop the ruins of a half-flooded town, a new one was built. Crudely constructed walkways wove through and around the buildings, bridging gaps between roofs or windows. Skulls bearing blood paint similar to the patterns worn by Bloodsworn were stuck on pikes that lined the walkways, adorned with strands of hair and teeth and bone. Skins and pelts and other remains hung from hooks, walls, cages, some appearing human. The village was lit by torches made from severed heads, both animal and human. As such, the stench of charred corpses lingered in the air like a fog. But if it bothered anyone, it was not evident. Eat Man and the guards continued on silently, pushing Jak through a maze of walkways high over the marshy waters that swamped the previous town. Up a ladder, down a fire escape, through a window, up another ladder, it was very claustrophobic, navigating through the village’s precarious fortifications.

Finally, they arrived at a large hall-like structure atop one of the bigger portions of the ruins. There, Jak discovered the source of the discordant music. 

Inside the hall was a large table, or rather a collection of various tables put together to form one large, long, uneven surface covered in what was _ probably _ supposed to be food, great browned hunks of strange meats and tangles of vegetables Jak was only dimly familiar with. Surrounding it was an assortment of chairs, and sofas, but in the middle of one of the long sides of the table sat alone seven tall, makeshift seats, throne-like in appearance, wreathed with more remains, like trophies. It took Jak a moment to realize each seat had its own unique collection. One was embellished with massive legs, long pincers, and a spiny shell, strongly resembling a mirelurk but...big. Another bore what must have been remnants of a radscorpion, fleshy plates and thick claws with a long tail wrapped around. There was a chair with giant supermutant remains, reminding Jak, with a shudder, of Swan, a chair with yao guai remains, a chair with glowing feral ghoul remains, the likes of which Jak had only ever encountered once, a chair that was actually empty, and one, in the center, decorated with... the corpse of a human, a particularly muscular man. Jak noticed his head was missing all of his teeth. 

Across from the table, against the farthest wall, was a group of four Bloodsworn, beating or grinding skin drums, car doors, and an assortment of skulls with mallets and sticks of wood or bone, creating the harsh, pounding music. Before them, on the floor, was a mismatch of skins hammered to the floor, upon which many Bloodsworn were dancing. It was a dance as strange and primal as the music, their bodies throbbing, writhing, spasming in rhythm with the music. Jak was, in short, disturbed. 

“Stay,” the Eat Man commanded, leaving Jak with the guards. He walked straight through the dancers, who made way for the larger man whilst maintaining their bizarre motions. 

Jak couldn’t see who he was talking to, but it became evident when Tooth strolled from the crowd and sat herself in the human corpse chair. 

The music ceased abruptly, the Bloodsworn all scurrying to take their seats around the table. A handful of particularly savage and scarred Bloodsworn sat in the gruesome thrones. Eat Man sat in the supermutant throne. The corpseless one was still empty.

“Tonight,” began Tooth, her strange voice clear in the warm hall. As she spoke, thin bones resembling human fingers rattled in her hair. “We honor the best of our Claws, those fearless in the face of the Predator and His trials. Many beasts are we tried against. Many monstrous challenges are we faced with. This night is for those who have bested the Predator. For now,” she added with a sly grin. 

The Bloodsworn erupted into a roar of laughter and cheering so violent Jak thought her ear was ringing. 

“Before we begin our celebration, I must, what is the saying? Address the elephant in the room.”

Every damned head at that hall turned to Jak. Bristling, Jak focused on Tooth, trying to ignore the gawking of the tribe.

“You, my friends, have surely heard of this girl. You know who she is, what she has done. You may be asking yourselves why I have brought her here tonight.” Tooth paused, surveying the general confusion before her. “We will honor her tonight as if she were our own.”

The crowd burst into outcry, seemingly outraged at this turn of events. Tooth looked on, coldly but patiently. The Eat Man stood up from his seat beside her and yelled for the group to be quiet.

“Thank you, Behemoth,” she nodded her head at him. “I assure you all, this girl, Jak, is quite the warrior. You know of her deeds, do you not? Know that she infiltrated the Combat Zone, eradicated the Reavers, the Dishonored, and even slew Apex, if only temporarily?”

“It would not take much to take care of miserable scum such as the Reavers and Dishonored,” one Bloodsworn cried.

“And she had another girl to help her!”

“She did not even slay Apex, not truly!”

Tooth stood up, slowly, the five Claws following suit. “Do you challenge our decision?”

Silence.

“Good. Jak, may you be seated.”

Tooth gestured to the empty chair beside her, frigid eyes boring into Jak’s, as if trying to read her very mind. The Claws stared with their harrowingly mutilated faces, sending chills down her spine. 

“Go to hell,” Jak managed to choke out, but she instantly wished she hadn’t said anything at all. She sounded weak, fragile, hopeless, exactly how she felt. Here, with no one at her side, no gun , nowhere to run and hide, she was insignificant, once again. Her pathetic defiance was met with hysteria and ridicule, filling the hall until she felt it was smothering her.

“Do not be rash, girl,” spoke the Bloodsworn man from the yao guai seat. His lower body was wrapped in leather strips, leaving the complex map of scars on his torso exposed. A yao guai head was fixed to his shoulder. Five large slashes blazed a faded trail from his face down his chest. His hair was sparse and matted. Jak noticed he wore a necklace of clawed bones. Yao guai digits? “You are lucky to be alive.”

“Now, now, let us not disparage, Maul,” Tooth chided. “She has reason to defy.”

“We have reason to disparage,” Maul grunted beneath his breath.

Tooth did not acknowledge him. “Jak, we insist you be seated.”

The guards beside Jak shoved her forward. She stumbled, catching herself before she collided with a freakishly bony girl at the radscorpion seat, who looked even thinner compared to the thick plates she wore as armor. Tied around her waist were a couple of weapons crafted from radscorpion pincers. Jak slipped past the girl, who bit her painted lip, only to find herself face to face with a stringy-haired woman shooting her a slimy grin. Being careful to avoid the spines on the shell decorating the woman’s chair, Jak edged around until she stood beside Tooth, close enough to confirm those were definitely human finger bones in her hair. 

They rattled as Tooth turned her head to Jak. “It is good to see you, Jak. I believe it is time to begin?”

Jak said nothing, she simply could not will herself to speak. Up close, she noticed Tooth's eyes were slightly different shades of icy blue. She'd never seen anything like that before, and it gave her chills.

“Friends! Their thrones, their bodies, their very names, all adorned with the trophies of their greatest hunts, spoils of the greatest battles they fought with nothing but their own prowess. I present to you the elite of our tribe.”

The Bloodsworn roared their approval, pumping their fists, stomping on the floor, jostling each other. They reminded Jak of a pack of wild mongrels.

“Sting! Slew a radscorpion by blinding it, hacking its tail and pincers off, then driving her blade clean through its maw!”

The bony girl, Sting, gave a mock bow as she was cheered.

“Mire!”

The stringy-haired woman flashed that slimy grin at the crowd.

“Caught a Mirelurk Queen unawares, jumping onto its back and stabbing it repeatedly in the face until it fell.”

More rowdy cheers and applause.

Tooth continued to introduce Maul, who apparently killed a yao guai with his bare hands, Wither, a sickly but fit man in tattered clothes who took on a glowing feral ghoul with nothing but a rope, though that deed paled in comparison to Behemoth’s, who shattered the knee caps of a giant supermutant, then crippled its arms and skinned its face and chest alive. He wore that skin, with the poor mutant’s eternal grimace stitched onto it, around his waist. Jak wasn’t sure how she never noticed it, but then again she stopped paying attention to him very quickly.

“Last, but not at all least, Jak, one-time slayer of Apex.”

The hall, unsurprisingly, fell silent.

“None have dared, none shall ever dare, but Jak saw her trial. She knew her test, knew the Predator incarnate was challenging her. So she rose, first with bullets, but then, hearing the true call to violence, with her blade, striking it through his eye and--”

“Predator incarnate?”

Slowly, Tooth turned to glare at Jak. “I do not appreciate you interrupting me, Jak.”

“You think he’s your, what, your god?” 

“The Predator is not some _ god _, waving wands in the sky, someone cowards cry to to erase their problems.” Around Tooth, some of the Claws chuckled. “He is the beginning of us, the ending of us, the blood and the fight and the fear.”

The hall cheered, seemingly familiar with this praise.

“But Apex is a man,” Jak asserted over the woman’s lunatic ramblings. “Hurts like one, bleeds like one, dies--” Well, no, he certainly didn’t die like one.

“We both know you don’t believe that. Have you not marveled at his strength, speed, lack of mortality? Have you not felt the presence of something more than man in his wake?”

The golden eyes, the sharpened teeth, the incredible size, refusal to die. She wandered back to the way he approached her, in that hospital room, the way he scented her like an animal. But he couldn’t be anything more than a man. How could he? He was just another power-freak looking for ways to assert his dominance on the world, the big bad that would make everyone obey. _ Just some more raider scum thinking he was fucking top dog. _

But raider scum never filled her with such dread before….

“You see it now, do you not?” Tooth was watching Jak’s rumination intently. “See past the shell of flesh? He may not tell us, but the Predator is living through Apex, come to lead His disciples. At His side, we will be unstoppable, _ He _ will be unstoppable.”

“He’s not your god,” Jak whispered, shaking her head slowly as she stared blankly at a particularly nauseating dish on the table dealing with eyeballs. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

Tooth leaned close to the girl. “Pardon?” she hissed.

“He’s not your god!” Jak exploded, whirling to meet Tooth’s face with a fist.

* * * *

No one anticipated the synth detective’s arrival, but everyone seemed to know why he was there. There were no quiet mutters in Goodneighbor, no alleyway whispers of gossip, just nods and frowns. That wasn’t to say most weren’t glad Jak was gone. In fact, the town felt generally uplifted at the girl’s absence. Most of the grave-faced passersby were burdened with disappointment, disbelief, or both. Jak being taken was a minor happening. But right beneath Hancock’s nose? Another raider, walking into Goodneighbor, taking what they want, then leaving unscathed? It did not bode well for the people, or the mayor.

“So you got nothin’ to give me?” Nick Valentine sighed, tapping his metal fingers on the arm of the couch. “I don’t know what I can do without a lead, Hancock, I’m sorry. If the case is cold before it's even started…"

The mayor’s face was in his hands. His coat and hat was off, tossed on his couch. The frilled shirt he wore was pulled askew and falling just off his shoulder. An excess of empty chems littered the table, floor, cushions. “I don’t know what the fuck I should do, Nick.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Nick replied sourly. “I suppose you oughta get some guys out there. I can join ‘em, try to find any sign of where our girl might be, but...it might be all we can do.”

“This shouldn’t have happened,” Hancock groaned, chucking a hollow canister of Jet across the room. It hit an old mug off a counter, causing it to crash to the ground. “Fuck me,” he muttered. “I just...don’t understand how it fuckin’ happened. Two of our Watch got taken out, replaced by imposters, and then walk into Goodneighbor, and I’m none the wiser. I don’t know what the fuck to do, man.”

“Well, getting to know your crew better might help. Recognize the phonies before they even have the chance, you know.” 

Hancock pondered these words, nodding as he chewed his lip. 

“And, forgive me for being Captain Obvious, but letting strange people with strange invitations into town is never a good idea.”

“I know!” The mayor threw his hands up. “I know, I fucked up, I get it. I just...I wanted to know what she knew, how she knew. Thought if we started taking fuckers in for questioning when we found them skulking, we could minimize shit happening. Look what happened, though.” 

The synth stood up, giving the mayor a pat on the shoulder. “C’mon, don’t dwell on it. Just move forward. It’s all guys like us can afford to do.”

Hancock snorted. “Guys like us?” 

“A tin man and a ghoul, we’re gonna be around for awhile. There’s always gonna be something to look back on, feel bad about...there just ain’t a point in wallowin’ in it for longer than you need to.” Nick sniffed, though he didn’t have a real need to. “Might as well get up and do something useful, you know?”

Hancock met Nick’s eyes, held his doleful gaze. “Yeah, I know.”

“Anyways, we should go, we have ourselves a damsel in distress. Though I wouldn’t say that to her face,” Nick chuckled.

“Hang on, there’s somethin’ I oughta do first.”

Cait was curled up in bed with dark circles under her bloodshot eyes when someone knocked on the door. With a pained groan she slowly moved off of the bed. Cracking open the door, she hadn’t expected to see Hancock smiling back at her and that bloody synth detective Jak talked to. Valentine? Nate Valentine? It didn’t matter.

“How ya hangin,’ sister?” Hancock asked.

“I ain’t dead yet,” Cait breathed as she pulled the door back to allow the pair in. “Wouldn’t want to be without Jak.” 

“Yeeeah, that’s actually what I’m here about.”

“Did you find her?” Cait heard her voice crack as she jumped at Hancock’s words. Was she alright? Was she back?

Hancock frowned, and Cait felt her heart sink back into its usual hole. So much for hope.

“I’m sorry doll, me and Nick here are goin’ to get some guys together and look for her.”

“I’m comin’ with you,” she declared in an instant. Nevermind the shite she was dealing with, she wanted to be there when they found Jak. She wanted to be there when they broke her from her cage. Shite, she couldn’t imagine how the girl was feeling right now. Back in a cage!

“I really don’t think you should, I mean, when’s the last time you slept?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“You really don’t look so swell,” Nick chimed in, with that weird arse voice of his. Though she might not have room to talk.

“I can take care of myself, dammit! Let’s go,” she huffed as she went about gathering her equipment. In a few moments, though, she had to sit down, physically drained from the small bit of action. “Just gimme a sec,” she said, holding a finger to Hancock and Nick’s concerned stares as she broke into a brief coughing fit. Wincing, she slowly eased herself back up, a smear of blood on her lip. “Ow--okay, okay” she whimpered, giving a shaky sigh. “Let’s go.”

“Cait…,” Hancock began miserably.

Cait stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She wiped her mouth with a hand, her face twisted as she began to cry. “Get her back, Hancock.”

* * * *

The sticky puddle beneath Jak’s cheek might’ve been growing, but she didn’t notice. She was too preoccupied listening to her ear ringing in the dark. She might’ve thought her lip was swollen but all she could think of was how foolish the Bloodsworn were. 

Of course, she struck first. She might not have met such a severe reaction if she hadn’t assaulted their leader. In that case, it was fair that when she next turned away she was met with a blow from Behemoth. She vaguely remembered being physically dragged all the way back to her box, while Bloodsworn spat on her, jeering and throwing who-knows-what at her. It felt like days ago, though. It really might have been. She didn’t regret a thing, but then again she didn’t have the energy to do _ anything _.

“Follow,” Behemoth ordered one day, as intrusive as the harsh light of day now filling the car.

Jak remained on the ground, back turned, eyes closed, finding solace in her own dark. She felt the floor shudder as he stepped into the boxcar.

“Up,” he commanded, roughly prodding her back with a foot.

Jak sighed. She didn’t have it in her to fight anymore, did she?

“I said--”

“I fuckin’ heard you,” Jak snapped, voice hoarse from a lack of recent use. She stood up with a series of pops and cracks. She stretched with a groan, only to be shunted forward by Behemoth.

“Move.”

The sun was blinding at first, but as her teary eyes adjusted, Jak realized she was being led back to the hall. Distantly, she wondered why, but it wasn’t her immediate concern. If she ran now, jumped off of the bridge, she’d land in filthy water. She hadn’t seen guns on anyone, so maybe she could swim away. Maybe she’d miss the water and gore herself on an old vehicle or building foundation. Maybe she’d not recover fast enough after the plummet, and drown right then and there. She almost didn’t care what happened, as long as she was away from there. But something held her back, even when she was ready to lunge over the side, even as she was walked into the hall. 

Hancock would find her. Cait would find her. Someone would be there, she just had to be patient. Be patient….

“Be patient,” Behemoth barked at Jak, who had been tapping her foot on the floor, a sound that reverberated throughout the hall.

She hadn’t even realized she was doing it, but she didn’t stop now.

“Girl,” Behemoth grabbed her by the shoulders, bringing her to his face. “If you do not hold yourself, I will do it for you.”

Jak spit on his face, earning a powerful backhand that sent her to the floor.

“Behemoth!” Tooth strode in from a doorway at the back of the hall, wearing some kind of robe, patched together with different skins and metals and trimmed with short tangles of fur and hair. Jak was pleased to see her face still bore a large, splotchy bruise.“Control yourself!”

“Hmph.” He leaned against the wall, sneering as Tooth bent down and offered Jak a hand.

Jak ignored it, pushing herself up. 

“I do apologize for--”

“What do you want?” Jak cut her off.

“I have an offer.”

Of course she did.

“I have convinced the others to allow you a chance to redeem yourself after your...altercation. Behemoth, the Vessel.”

He grunted and walked through the door Tooth had entered from. Moments later, he was dragging out a scrawny, wrinkled man, barely clothed and oddly free of scars save for one cruel and jagged lesion across his back. He was thrown to the floor before Tooth and Jak.

“Before you is a Vessel, slave unto the Predator’s will. Righteous is such enslavement, as we are the ones intended to carry out His will. Therefore, the Vessels are simply the means to an end.”

The man on the ground stared up at Jak, eyes wide with horror, silently pleading.

“Now, I do not expect you to have known this, but inside all of us is the Blood of the Predator. You, me, this Vessel. All of us. Unfortunately, only a few are worthy of possessing It.”

Jak’s mouth went dry, and her stomach felt liquid. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.

Tooth approached the man on the floor, crouching beside him. He flinched, scrabbling to back away from her, but Behemoth stood behind him, barring the way. “Oftentimes we must free the Blood, Opening the Vessel’s tainted shell to spare the purity of It. This Vessel is frail, weak. We have no need for him any longer. We must save the Blood.” From inside her robe she drew a knife, long, jagged, but unlike the crude and scrappy things most Bloodsworn seemed to carry, this one looked as if care was actually put into its making. The blade shined, tinged with rust or blood, maybe both. The end was wrapped in some sort of pinkish cord, likely to provide a semblance of a handle. She presented it to Jak, handle first. “Show us you feel remorse. Do this favor for the Predator, and all will be forgiven. You will be released from here, allowed to go to wherever it is you call home.”

“No, no I won’t--”

“Come girl, it is our mercy or Apex’s,” Behemoth leered.

“Yes, we can not guarantee the Predator’s kindness should you reject this,” added Tooth.

“I don’t fucking care, I’m not gonna do it!”

Tooth shared a look with Behemoth. “Pity.”


	27. Chapter 27

It was a good thing Nick knew his way around the ‘Wealth, because Hancock sure as hell didn’t. He knew his familiar surroundings, everything between Goodneighbor and Diamond City, and then some. But Nick, Nick was taking paths Hancock had never even seen before. They made it to Lexington in a few days, which, according to the synth, was longer than it normally would have taken.

“But these aren’t what you call normal circumstances,” he’d added with a bitter chuckle.

And they weren’t. They’d been trying their damndest to track Jak’s captors, scouring every building that was halfway-intact for signs of recent life. Sometimes they’d see movement in a window or smoke from a fire, only to discover a small group of raiders or worse, supermutants. But there was no sign of Jak. There were fucked up dogs, mutants, ferals, Gunners, but no Jak. However, Hancock wasn’t about to go back to Goodneighbor and tell Cait he couldn’t find her girl. Both of them had helped him out a lot, all things considered. They were friends, and he wasn’t about to let his friends down, no matter how daunting and seemingly impossible the task ahead was.

Besides, it was his fault Jak was missing in the first place. He’d never sleep again if he didn’t find her alive and well. 

He loathed admitting that wasn’t a given. 

  
  


They set up for the night in an old Super Duper Mart. It was full of ferals and the ceiling had mostly collapsed but shelter was shelter. Nick wasn’t tired of course, but the rest of the group, just some guys and gals from the Watch, needed to call it a night. So did Hancock, but he didn’t really care about sleeping. It’s not like he’d been able to lately anyways.

“We’ll keep heading up north,” Nick told Hancock over the fire, his green eyes glowing eerily in the dim light. “I don’t honestly expect any raiders to be thriving around those parts, but it can’t kill us to look. I know there’s an old suburb next to a Vault, either of those are good places to be laying low.”

“We’ll check them,” the mayor muttered. “Fahr’s got the east covered for us. Wish I had a way to communicate back and forth with her, but...well, I’ll know if something goes wrong if she’s not back at Goodneighbor before we are.”

Nick scratched his neck while listening, the part of it actually covered in synth skin. Hancock always had to resist the urge to question the pointless movement. “Hancock, Boston’s not the smallest park. Now I don’t wanna seem like I’m trying to talk you down here, ‘cause I’m _ not, _but this is going to take awhile, assuming our girl is still in Boston.”

“Where the hell else would they go? Fuckin’ Appalachia?” Hancock asked impatiently. He wasn’t about to consider Jak being somewhere else but here.

The detective raised his hands wearily. “I dunno, I’m just sayin’. Don’t be surprised if this takes longer than you expected. Just two ragtag teams wandering aimlessly throughout the Commonwealth? We’re gonna be out here awhile.”

“I don’t care, I gotta find her.”

“I know you do, just be patient.”

* * * *

“Does that sign say…”

Hancock would have burst into laughter had he been in a lighter mood, or running on chems. Same difference, really. 

Nick had told him there was an old drive-in movie theater up the road, but what they found wasn’t at all what he was talking about. 

For starters, the sign normally proclaiming the location was covered in an array of neon lettering, indicating this place had “Fun,” “Games,” and “Prizes.” The biggest letters read as “Fun Cunt,” though a few gaps indicated some missing letters. Hancock was only mildly disappointed to realize that _ probably _wasn’t the place’s real name.

What he thought the place _ should _have been called was “Absolutely Fucking Huge,” because it was. Just from the outside, he could tell this place could probably give Goodneighbor a run for its money. From what he could see over the vast wall, which was lined with barbed wire on the top and apparently constructed from every damn piece of wood in the Commonwealth, there was a large, box-like structure on top of the old drive-in building. Past that, he could see the gleam of another scrap metal roof, but the rest was barred from view behind a thick gate. 

Nick was still staring, dumbstruck perhaps. “Well that’s not how I remembered it. What the heck is this?”

“Maybe some kinda settlement. Think anyone’s home?”

As if on cue, the doors swung open loudly, and out pranced, damn-near _ skipped _, the weirdest fucker Hancock had ever seen. And judging by his own mirror, that was saying something.

He wore a long red coat, almost like Hancock’s but trimmed in a golden color, that hung loosely on his long, gangly frame over a black tank top. Similarly golden colored threads adorned the shoulders, past which his hair fell in black, oily tangles. Atop his head was a plain black fedora, worn and weathered. His dusty black trousers were dotted with golden buttons and held up by suspenders. The pants were tucked into a tall and shiny pair of boots. The weirdest part, though, was the fucked up clown makeup the guy was wearing. It was creepy as hell, black diamonds outlined with red framing his eyes, the corners trailing across a length of his face. His mouth was painted, emphasizing his freakish grin, each long corner of the smile reaching past his cheeks. It must be one hell of a freakshow here.

“Good _ evening _, friends!” the clown said with a grin as he bounded up to them. “What brings you to Fun Country?” He wagged his finger dramatically as he continued: “A-buh-buh-buh-buh--don’t tell me.” He leaned close, a lock of greasy hair falling in his face. He put a gloved hand over one side of his mouth as if he was preparing to tell Hancock a secret. “Is it...fun?”

So that was the name of this place. Hancock wanted to see just what kind of _ fun _he was talking about, because this guy seemed like he got his fun from a needle.

“You should really fix your sign, pal,” Nick grumbled. “Don’t want folks gettin’ the wrong idea.”

“Well, why _ not _ ?” protested the clown, exaggerating his indignation. “Don’t want folks getting the _ right _idea, now do I?” He had this accent, subtle, something about his words dancing with the menacing edge of his voice, and his whole character seemed larger than life.

“You seen anyone around here with a girl?” Hancock asked, seriously doubting the sanity and sobriety of the clown.

“Not me, my friend, I’ve been chasing love for years now.” He bowed his head in mock sadness.

“No, you buffoon,” Nick said, rolling his eyes. “We’re looking for a kidnapped girl, taken by some raiders. Should have been three of them. Maybe more.”

“I might’ve seen them,” said the clown, his ghostly blue eyes wide and bottom lip out, like he knew something particularly interesting that they didn’t. 

“Where?” Hancock demanded.

“Oh, just around,” the clown winked.

Hancock drew his shotgun and pointed it right at the clown’s chest. “Fuckin’ tell me, man, I’m not playing games.”

“On the _ contrary _,” the clown began, gently pushing the barrel of the gun away from him. “You are. Will be. I’ll tell you what you want to know...but it’s gonna come with a price.”

“What do you want, chems? Caps?”

The clown acted repulsed at this. “No, no, Jesus no. I just want some_ fun _.”

“Excuse me?” Nick was clearly running out of patience.

“I’ll show you, I’ll show you. Come inside, follow me.” He beckoned them forward, then skipped off through the gate.

“Think we should follow the fool?” Nick inquired wearily.

“Think he really knows anything?” Hancock retorted, just as wearily.

“At this point, anything is more than we know.”

Hancock sighed, looking up at the sky. The sun was sinking past the horizon, throwing fiery shades into the atmosphere like the mushroom clouds on the old propaganda posters. How many more days would it be till they found Jak? How many more until it was too late? “Let’s get this show on the road,” he sighed.

The group followed the clown through the gate, past empty guard posts and up a rickety staircase, only to find themselves more or less awestruck. Fun Country, as the clown called it and another set of neon letters proclaimed it, was even bigger than Hancock thought. They were standing at a corner of the place, providing a small glimpse at just how much there was to see. 

To his left was a long cluttered hallway, bathed in the deep orange glow of oil lamposts, and there was a staircase beside it, leading to another level that seemed to radiate a toxic green. 

To his right, sets of couches and chairs were arranged around various tables running beneath a considerable length of a shelter of sorts, spotted with a shit ton of what Hancock recognized as Christmas trees. They glared with a dizzying assortment of reds and blues and yellows, but did little to light up the falling dark. Across from these tables was a line of storefronts, from what Hancock could tell. Lights glimmered and flashed towards the end of this side, but he couldn’t tell what they were.

From somewhere came a thunderous thud that made Hancock jump, followed by a muffled growl that would’ve made the hairs on the back of his next stand, if he had any. 

“The hell was that?” he asked Nick as a hush fell over the group. 

“I don’t…,” Nick trailed off, turning his ear to see if he would hear it again.

Hancock walked towards where he thought it came from, finding himself staring down at a large asphalt clearing from behind a wall made of concrete and wire. Fun Country had been built around it, the cracked surface of the drive-in parking lot covered in a vast assortment of junk, bones, gore, and a handful of large, green, metal containers labeled with cautions of “Danger!” One of them shuddered as something inside it tossed and turned. 

“Don’t just _ stand _ there, sillies,” the clown popped up next to Hancock. “You want to see the rest, of course.”

“The hell is in those cages?” Hancock asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the clown giggled.

“We just want--” Nick began, but he was interrupted.

“Your girl, yes, yes, be patient.”

“Our timing could be the difference between her life and death,” the synth scowled.

“Pity.” His face drooped in a freakish caricature of sadness. “I’m afraid you’ll still have to be patient. A-right this way!”

He led them down the cluttered hallway first, which was full of random empty cages, shelves decorated with blank picture frames, burnt books, toy cars, seemingly anything. There were piles of crates and barrels, with candles burning on top of some of them. Whoever decorated appeared to throw whatever they could find together.

“This is the Love Lounge,” the clown announced as they came to a room with stained couches, poorly constructed tables, empty bookshelves, dead potted plants, but the real attention grabber was what lurked in the corner. Three male mannequins, dressed in various suits and coats, surrounded a naked female mannequin who stood behind a small wooden fence. All around this unnerving exhibit were bottles and bulbs full of a glowing green liquid. They hung from the ceiling by chains and ropes, or simply lay arranged around the floor. 

It was definitely not something Hancock had ever seen, though it _ did _oddly remind him of a particular Jet-fueled delusion he’d had once.

The clown stood there, staring expectantly at the group. 

Nick raised his synthetic brows in disdain. 

The clown raised his back. “Hm?”

“What?” grunted Nick.

“What?” the clown echoed.

“What’re you gawkin’ at, clown?” Nick frowned.

“I was waiting for someone to ask why I call it the Love Lounge.”

Hancock just stared, eyes narrowed. He was really trying to figure this guy out, but he just...couldn’t.

“Why...why do you call it the Love Lounge?” one of the Watch finally piped up.

" _So_ glad you asked!” The clown was beaming. He straightened his back and cleared his throat. “While visitors might get comfortable in these oh-so-comfortable sofas here, they are also constantly reminded of the unnerving presence of our friends in the corner. Just like love.” Then, to address the blank faces, he added “It’s a metaphor, see?”

“Can we just get this moving along?” Nick snapped. “We don’t have time for your games.”

“You’re wrong,” the clown practically sang. “This way, please.”

Next, he led them down a hallway lit up with dim red lights and propaganda posters. Except, Hancock noticed, all of the posters reflected the prewar paranoia, warning of the dangers of communism and spies. He also noticed the creepy line of mannequins that stretched down the hall, all of which were donning the telltale uniforms of Chinese communists. How they gathered so many of them was beyond Hancock.

“This is the Hall With Many Ears,” the clown said proudly.

“I don’t get it,” Hancock sighed.

“Shh, don’t let them hear you.” The clown fixed Hancock with the most serious expression he’d made all night, eyes wide, mouth taut.

The rest of the place was equally if not even more strange. There was another lounge area, its only significant feature being the wall crowded with all manner of Wasteland trophies: severed heads of feral ghouls, yao guai, deathclaws, mirelurk shells, glossy-eyed insect husks, _ everything _. Then there was the arcade, a small hallway full of old carnie games, comic book posters, more green bottle lamps, multicolored lights, and a crackling radio rendition of a carnival waltz. A comparatively more tame array of shops and sets of various tables and chairs eventually led them back to the entrance of Fun Country.

“And there’s where you can sleep for the night,” the clown beamed as he swung both arms to point towards a bridge that led to the box-like structure Hancock noticed earlier.

“We’re not stayin’ for the night, we just need you to point us to the right direction, you lunatic,” Nick practically growled.

Distantly, Hancock wondered why Nick seemed so concerned that they found Jak. Was it simply for the mayor’s sake? Or did Nick really care about her?

“Mmm,” began the clown, as if he was about to break some particularly bad news to the synth. “You will be, actually.”

“You gonna make us or something?” Hancock snorted.

“Not..._ exactly _. I--hmm….” The clown sighed. “How do I put this….”

“However you need, just spit it the fuck out, man.” 

“Well...okay.” He took a deep breath. “I know what you need to know. I have what you have to have.”

“You’ve seen Jak?” demanded Nick.

“Is that her name? But that’s a _ man’s _name, what a silly girl.”

“Where’d you see her?” Hancock butt in.

“Out and about. Here, let’s sit.”

Hancock traded a scowl with Nick before begrudgingly sitting at the table the clown gestured at. He indicated with a tilt of his head for the others to follow suit, and so they did.

With a gasp, the clown snatched up a faded magazine with a barely-clad woman on the cover from the cluttered tabletop. He thumbed through it hastily, eyes widening more and more until he finally stopped on one page. A smile grew on his face as he turned the magazine vertically. “I thought I lost this one,” he chuckled, tearing his eyes away to look up at the group. “What?” 

Nick leaned forward slowly until he was just inches from the clown’s face, and slowly said, “The. Girl.”

A look of genuine perplexity stole the clown’s grimy smile. Then his features lit up once more. “_ Oh _! Right, the girl, the girl. Yes, yes, I was out and about, checking snares, checking traps, seeing what frightful beasties I caught...and then I saw them. Big, scary, bloody raiders, pushing along a girl, all tied up and miserable-like. I followed them for a while--it’s so easy to follow people out here when they’re distracted--I followed them back to their camp, their little village.”

“Where is it?” Hancock edged forward, knuckles turning white as he gripped his legs. He could feel his heart beginning to race. This was exactly what he needed.

“I told you earlier, folks.” The clown wiggled his eyebrows and said, “You gotta pay for that information.”

“With _ fun _,” Nick remembered bitterly.

“Exactly.”

“So what do we do?” asked Hancock.

“Well...you have two options. Win a thousand tickets in the arcade, or beat one of my beasties in a fight. Either one will get you what you want.”

Never had Hancock been offered such a bizarre bargain, and he’d been offered a few strange ones in his time. Play carnival games, or enter an arena against fuck-knows-what kind of monster? With his luck it would be a deathclaw. He sighed. The entire time this was happening, Jak was alone, cold, starving, possibly tortured, while they were about to be playing fucking games. He turned to his men. “What’re we thinkin’, crew?”

The murmurs indicated the group was, unsurprisingly, more inclined to play the games than fight to the death.

The clown jumped up from the table, clapping his hands erratically.“Guess that settles it, no?”

“You really sure about this?” Nick muttered beside Hancock.

“Whatever it takes, man.”

“Follow me, friends,” the clown called as he pranced towards the arcade.

They did, and after unanimously agreeing that Hancock should be the one playing the games, formed a sort of spectating circle around him. The clown hung back, leaning against the frame of the door, watching the events transpiring before him with a strange gleam in his eye. 

The first game Hancock picked was Atomic Rollers. The bright blue game chimed at him eagerly as he stepped up to it. 

“I can’t believe I’m really doing this,” he growled as he reached into the ball trough. His fingertips brushed bare metal.

It was empty.

He crouched low, peering inside the empty trough, then the ones belonging to the adjacent games. All empty. 

“What the fuck gives?” He demanded from the clown.

“Oh that one hasn’t been playable in _ years _, my friend.”

Hancock doubted the fucker had even been here for years, but, fuming, he headed for a different game: Nuka Zapper Race. The targets were faded, but bright enough that he could see what he needed to do. The prize shelves were chock full of robot models, stuffed animals, cigarettes, bones, chems...prizes for all ages. But…

There was no water gun.

He fixed the clown with the deadliest look he could muster, but the clown only shrugged apologetically. Nick grimly surveyed the scene from the side, his brows knit together.

“This next one better fuckin’ work,” Hancock snarled as he stomped off towards the Whac-A-Commie machine. With a slight churn of relief, he picked up the stupid game mallet. But nothing happened. 

“You need money to play the game, silly,” the clown said as Hancock rounded on him.

“Prewar,” Nick scowled.

Squinting, Hancock stared at the clown. He_ really _ couldn’t figure him out. A slightly manic burst of laughter bubbled from Hancock has he slowly approached the clown, who simply gazed with exaggerated curiosity. “None of these work.”

“Yes, so it seems. It’s really quite unfortunate, they haven’t worked since--”

Seizing a fistful of the clown’s shirt, Hancock yanked him closer. “What kinda game are you playin’, clown?”

Tilting his head to look over Hancock’s shoulder, he frowned. “None, they don’t work.”

Hancock grit his teeth, doing his best to keep from decking this guy, or worse.

“So what,” Nick said, “are we supposed to take part in your little dogfight now?” 

“Oh-ho, they’re no dogs,” chuckled the clown.

“Quit _ wasting _my fuckin’ time.” Hancock growled as he shook the clown.

“I will as soon as you let go of me, silly.”

Hancock made a show of releasing his grip on the man.

“Unfortunately, it seems you only have one option here,” the clown chimed over his shoulder as he marched away from the game area. “That _ is _assuming you still wanted to know about the girl.”

“You _ know _we do!” snarled Hancock, following close behind.

“I thought as much.”

“The deck was stacked right from the start, wasn’t it?” Nick mused wryly. 

“That’s a matter of perspective, my friend.”

They stopped at a heavy and partially-rusted metal door in the cluttered hallway. 

“Wait here till the door opens,” the clown instructed, tapping his hand against the door. There was a giddy, excited note in his voice. “Then you’re gonna gear up, I’ll give you a minute to do that, then another door will open and you’ll step out in the _ arena _,” the last word slipped into a savage giggle.

“What exactly are we getting ourselves into?” Nick asked, but the clown was already racing up the stairs they saw earlier.

Moments later, the door sluggishly clanked open.

“Let’s just get this shit over with,” Hancock muttered as he shouldered past Nick. He wasn’t wild about charging head on against an unnamed threat, especially considering the noises he’d heard coming from those cages. It had occurred to him that they could have easily turned around and left, knowing Jak had been in the general vicinity. They could have wandered some more instead of squander their time like idiots. Yet there was something alluring about the promise of a lead, even just the possibility of it. 

“What’re you thinkin’?” Nick asked with that classic “I’m a detective trying to figure shit out” voice he always had. He was rummaging through lockers and trunks, scarce with supplies, with the rest of the group.

Hancock picked a pack of shotgun shells from a locker and rattled them in his ear. “I’m thinkin’ this ain’t gonna be an easy trip.”

The second door powered up, opening slower than the last. Hancock thought something in the cages must’ve smelled the fresh meat, because he could hear it snarling frantically, echoes of snuffling and grunting slipping past to greet them. As they cautiously filtered out of the claustrophobic armory, Hancock got a better view now of this arena, noting the heap of crates or the dumpsters for cover, or the trailer with a lone suitcase in it, or strange wooden cutouts of cartoon characters he'd never seen before, though they all seemed to be based off of Nuka-Cola. A couple giant lollipop statues decorated the place, along with large Vault Tec statues, street lamps, makeshift fires, the empty husk of a bus...what _ hadn’t _been dragged here? 

A loudspeaker turned on with a whine. “Hope you’re ready, friends,” the clown's crackling voice boomed cheerily. “I know _ she _is!” He burst into a fit of laughter.

At the same time, one of the cages groaned with mechanical life as its door lifted open.


	28. Chapter 28

Hancock always did trust his instinct, because his instinct never let him down. In that moment though, he wished it would have. The grating roar of the deathclaw that leapt out of the cage only reinforced this sentiment.

He didn’t think it had seen him or his Watch yet, as the cage had been facing opposite of them, and the group split for cover. Him and a couple of the guards were crouching behind a pile of crates where one of those damned Vault-Tec girls was winking at him with a thumbs-up. It felt mocking, given the current circumstances. The rest of the group was leaning their backs against the inside of the empty trailer while Nick carefully opened the suitcase inside it. 

“What’re we doin’, mayor?” whispered one of the Watch.

“Good fuckin’ question,” Hancock breathed as he peered over the crates. He could see the deathclaw, the way its hide pulled taut against its jutting ribs as it slunk around, oversized claws hanging low. The thick scales looked like wet stones, sleek in the sun’s glare. It turned its head, seemingly massive with the swooping horns atop it, and Hancock ducked back behind the cover, hoping the beast’s beady orange eyes hadn’t seen him. 

  
  


“I-I’ve never killed a deathclaw before, mayor, I d-don’t know if I can--”

Hancock grabbed the guy’s shoulder and signaled for him to be quiet. He could hear those reptilian talons approaching as they stamped on the concrete. He felt the rumbling breath of the deathclaw deeper and deeper in his core. 

“She might not see you yet,” the clown broke in over the loudspeaker, “but she can _ smell _ you, and she knows _ right _where you are.” The last words dissolved into a murderous giggle.

“On my word,” Hancock whispered. “Run.”

“Where?” retorted the guard.

“Anywhere, just run and shoot, don’t stop shooting.”

With a visible swallow, the guard nodded. 

Hancock caught Nick’s eye and held up a hand, three fingers splayed out. 

Nick nodded.

Two fingers.

Hancock gripped his shotgun tight,

One finger.

He thought he could feel the heat of the deathclaw’s breath.

“Fuckin’ _ ruuuuun _!”

Hancock sprang to his feet, finding himself face to face with the creature’s monstrous features. He’d only ever seen a few prewar pictures of what demons were supposed to look like, illustrations in the weirder books that found their way into his hands, but all of them had resembled a deathclaw, one way or another. This particular one, most of all. It opened its mouth in a snarl, freeing its thick, jutted fangs from their crowded resting place. Hancock aimed his shotgun within the wide maw, and, with a yell, pulled the trigger. 

The deathclaw howled in pain, falling onto its ridged back. Blood soaked from underneath the clawed hand it held against its face, glittering rubies in the sunlight. Several Watch flocked to it like flies on brahmin shit, shooting it with all they had. The deathclaw’s pained grunts turned into enraged growling as it lept off the ground, tearing its claws through the around it. 

“I don’t think she liked thaaaat,” the clown sang.

Hancock fled the angered beast, taking new cover behind one of the green cages in the corner of the arena, presently empty. Peering from behind the edge of it, he saw the deathclaw charging past the bus, where Nick could be seen searching for...something. Hancock followed the monster’s line of sight, realizing only too late that it was headed straight for one of the Watch. Poor girl had her back turned in the middle of reloading her gun, hadn’t even realized the deathclaw had got back up, or that she was way out in the open. He called out to warn her, but she was already snatched backwards, ripped apart. With a grimace, turned away before having to witness the violent act. Clearing his gun’s chamber, he willed himself to make a move. 

“And that’s why you should _ always _ be aware of your surroundings!” the clown jeered.

The deathclaw scented the air, and slowly found itself staring at Hancock’s direction. It somehow didn’t notice Nick Valentine, slinking just behind it, narrowly avoiding its lashing tail. The deathclaw probably couldn’t smell the metal bastard. What was he even doing? Hancock smirked to himself before the deathclaw caught sight of him. This time it didn’t stumble as it bound towards him. But before it could reach him, several Watch sprang to action, flanking the beast. Hancock could feel each pop of gunfire in his chest like a punch, but the bullets did little against the beast’s thick hide. Actually, it was just looking more and more pissed. It swept its claws and its tail in wide, whistling arcs around itself, trying to lash out at anything it could. The group scattered once more, but this only provoked the beast further. Sensing its prey, the deathclaw lunged towards one of the retreating Watch, picking him up by the shoulders and slamming him into the asphalt. Hancock thought he heard a crunch.

“I think I heard that from up here,” snickered the clown.

“Hancock!”

The mayor turned to see Nick, carrying a round green landmine, with more shoved into the deep pockets of his coat, both sides swaying lazily with the weight.

“I need you to buy me some time, draw this thing away from the bus. I’m gonna set these up around it, so get everyone away. Keep it off me. We’re gonna blow this lizard to bits.”

Hancock barely had time to digest the synth’s words as he ran off again. The mayor looked from Nick to the deathclaw, who was rearing on its legs with a roar as the Watch before it were yelling about running out of bullets. He noticed the beast was a head or two shorter than the cage beside it. 

Bingo.

He fished into his pocket, fingers wrapping around an inhaler of Jet. One quick breath and an explosion of color later, and he felt himself floating through that ethereal high. He was running, though it felt more like casually wading through a pond. A pond with a goddamn demon lizard in it. He yelled at the Watch in that low, slow, Jet-fueled voice that always creeped the fuck out of him. He told them to get to the trailer, away from the demon lizard, or Nick Valentine and his mines. Valentine’s mines. Hancock chuckled. He turned to the deathclaw, who was a bit too green, and watched as it sluggishly swung its head, opening its mouth as it growled. It sounded like yawning. Yawning from hell. Hancock ran before it stopped yawning, leaping up on a low ice cream statue. Then another, this time higher. Waving his arms wildly to keep his balance, he launched himself towards the top of the closest cage, soaring through the air in a feathery, dreamlike way, and--

Hit the side of it, front first.

Hancock laughed when he landed on his back, feeling his body vibrate with the loud, bell-like noise the cage made, and the slow thump of his heart that rumbled the ground beneath him. It kept thumping harder, almost in a relaxing massage kind of way. Then the lights went dim as the shadow of the deathclaw washed over his prone form.

Shadow of the deathclaw?

“_ Shit! _” Scary-Voice Hancock yelled, rolling to get up. He jumped on the ice cream again, bounding towards the green cage just as a rush of air came swooping beneath him. He looked behind, noticing the scraps of red fabric that now clung to the deathclaw’s death claws. That bitch ripped his coat! Hancock aimed his shotgun, except his hands were empty. The gun was still on the ground. 

The deathclaw reached for Hancock, stretching its hands over the top of the cage. Hancock kicked at one, causing it to slip off the edge with a screech as claws dragged against metal. Funny, he could actually kick a deathclaw’s hand and get away with it. He turned it into a sort of game, kicking and jumping back as the claws struggled to reach him. 

Until they didn’t. 

He felt the bony hooks rake against his leg, the pain bloom up through his body and the blood blossom bright anti-commie poster red through the gashes in his pants leg and boot. He fell off the side of the cage, not laughing this time as he found himself on the ground again. He made to stand up, only to plant his foot on his coat and trip over, falling back onto the asphalt. He felt it scrape through his coat sleeve, grating at his flesh. The deathclaw’s shadow pushed over him again, the slowed rumble of its breathing finding its away into his rib cage. He turned just in time to see the beast beginning to raise its long arms, preparing to tear out his fucking guts, no doubt. He forced himself into a roll, easily avoiding the incoming attack. But the world’s colors were starting to fade. Reality was beginning to feel heavier, slowly crashing back down around him. His favorite part of the trip was running short. It always did. 

In a slow rush of sound and light, the only way Hancock could really explain the sensation, he found himself limp-running at normal speed, seeing with normal vision...this is the part where he’d be lying on the couch, dozing off to sleep or contemplating the state of the world and the entities living within it--there was no in-between. He could do neither right now. The usual wave of calm was replaced by a resurgence of adrenaline. 

There was still a deathclaw on his ass. 

He still needed to find Jak.

“Could you folks hurry this along?” the clown moaned impatiently. “This is getting to be quite _ boring _.”

“Hancock!” Nick was hanging halfway outside of one of the windows on the bus. “I’m gonna get this thing’s attention, stay the hell back.”

“Nick, are you crazy?! What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, tapping the bus. “Don’t think this old tin can is gonna go out that easily.”

Hancock stared apprehensively, then, realizing the deathclaw was close, made a run for the trailer the rest of the Watch were in. As he did so, he heard Nick throwing taunts and banging on the side of the bus. The deathclaw turned its head with a grunt, heading for the bus and the line of mines before it. Hancock looked back just as the mines went off, sending chunks of concrete mingled with wisps of flame into the air. A cloud of dust covered the area. 

“Nick?” Hancock cautiously approached the site, apprehensive of any leftover explosives. Or deathclaws. “Nick, you there?” 

“Is it safe out there, boss?” The group was wearily stepping out of the trailer. “Is Nick alright?

He had to be. 

Hancock rounded to the other side of the bus. 

“Fuck.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya--if you're reading this note, could you just leave me a comment saying you've made it this far? I'm just trying to gauge how many readers I have, that's all! Thanks, means the world to me~


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to anyone who might have already read my previous posting of chapter 29--that wasn't the correct chapter! This one is though.

Nick barely made any notice of Hancock’s relieved expletive. He was sitting on the ground with his knees bent and back against the bus. His eyes were closed and his head was resting against the bus as he panted. “That’s one way to get the coolant pumpin’.”

“Nick, you crazy bastard,” Hancock chuckled. “You actually did it.”

“What, didn’t believe in your ol’ Nicky Valentine?”

“I didn’t believe in that deathclaw not ripping your robot ass apart.”

“That’s synthetic humanoid to you.”

“Yes, yes,” crackled the clown’s voice. “How touching, you guys made it. Are you lovebirds done? We have business to tend to, no?”

“Hey, fuck you, asshole!” Hancock rasped, shielding his eyes as he looked up at the box the clown had been spectating from. “You didn’t prepare us for that shit! We’ll take as much time as we wanna!”

“I thought your timing was the difference between poor Jak’s life and death?”

Hancock fell into a begrudged silence.

* * * *

It wasn’t like the clown was any less tolerable than before, nor was he any friendlier. On the contrary, he seemed bitter at his prized fighter’s defeat. He kept making mournful remarks about it, as if he was trying to guilt-trip them into overcoming what _ he _pushed them into.

“She always did like the sunset,” he said. “Only got to see it twice, and now she’ll never see it again.”

“Nevermind how a savage creature trapped in the dark was supposed to enjoy a sunset,” Nick muttered.

Hancock got the impression they weren’t supposed to have survived.

However, the clown _ did _hold up his end of the bargain.

“Forest Grove, huh?” Nick mused as he stared down at a plate of food. 

Seating them at an outdoor lounge area within the small upper floor of Fun Country, the clown had presented the group with a dinner consisting of lots of roasted meat and a soupy mixture of vegetables. It was actually pretty decent, Hancock thought. A little bland, but for Wasteland standards? This clown could cook. Of course he’d only come to that conclusion after being _ certain _ it wasn’t poisoned. At least...the clown didn’t seem to be lying when he said it wasn’t.

“Isn’t that east of Fort Hagen?” asked Nick as he prodded at his meal with a bent fork.

The clown’s face went blank as he paused halfway through sitting down. “I...do not know?”

“Do you know where it is, Nick?” Hancock sat forward in his chair, the candles on the table before him casting strange shadows on his face.

The synth carefully sampled the vegetables, raising his brows as if pleased to find out the food wasn’t half bad. “I suppose there’s only one way to really find out.” 

“I just don’t wanna waste anymore time.” Or lives. He’d buried the remains of the two dead Watch a little ways down the road. He wasn’t sure he’d forget it anytime soon, the same way he wouldn’t ever forget literally washing their blood off his hands. It seemed like more and more, people were dying because of the shit _ he _was getting them into. And it gnawed at him.

All throughout the dinner, it gnawed at him. The clown actually seemed like a nice guy, once he got over his brooding. He told jokes and wild stories to the group, earning himself laughs and stories in return from the Watch, and even a few chuckles from Nick. Setting aside the psychotic arena shit, this guy wasn’t so bad. Everyone was a little psycho out here. Hancock learned to look past it. 

But dark and dangerous thoughts kept peeling through his brain like the pages of a book never meant to be read, doubts and worries and resignations. He wasn’t a good mayor, those didn’t let their people die so easily. He wasn’t a good friend, those didn’t let their friends get lost so easily. What the hell was he doing? Was he just some junkie playing pretend to feel better about himself? Without the people, without his friends, without folks like Jak, Nick, Cait, Fahrenheit, he was nothing but a ghoul in a dead man’s clothes. It felt like everything that made him who he was was slowly slipping through his fingers. It didn’t even feel fair to blame himself, not really. The circumstances were always too complicated to just slap self-blame on it and be done. Yet it felt justified to blame himself all the same, like he _should_. Who else could he blame? _He_ should have been able to prevent the Bloodbath, or Fahrenheit’s scheming against Jak, or these Bloodsworn taking Jak, or a couple Watch dying in an arena. And in a way that made his mouth go dry, it was all connected to Jak. If he had never let her in to begin with….

He refused to go down that path. He’d either blame himself or no one at all, he wouldn’t scapegoat people like his brother did.

These thoughts kept Hancock awake that night.

Turns out the big box-like structure was a sort of hotel. Except, like the rest of Fun Country, Hancock and his group’s were the only other souls there. The clown had made a big deal out of rushing to the reception desk before allowing them to go inside. Then he pretended to hand out room keys in mock professionalism while letting them in on a little secret: there were no keys. The place was dimly lit with_ more _ oil lamp posts, the likes of which Hancock had never seen so many of. By now, he was convinced the clown had a lamp post factory up and running somewhere nearby. Each room had a different colored door set into the plain wooden walls, with a handful of beds inside and not much else. Hancock and Nick split up, each taking half of the group. The mayor didn’t stay for very long though. He wasn’t about to toss and turn all night. 

He slunk outside to the wooden balcony that had been built connecting the reception area to the first floor of rooms. It had a fair view of Fun Country, and its various glows and glares weren’t a bad sight. Well, that green one...kind of was. Located on the second level of Fun Country was a...shrine, of sorts, according to the clown. 

“It’s to anyone that’ll listen,” he’d told Hancock. “Gods like creepy weird shit, don’t they?”

“I...wouldn’t know,” Hancock had replied, eyeing the trough of blood before the soulless, animal-corpse wearing mannequin woman. A couple others, more mechanical in appearance, twisted bizarrely into bowing poses. Cardboard bush cutouts enclosed the scene, dotted with more glowing green bottles.

“What’s in those bottles anyways?” Hancock glanced at the clown, who’s transfixed stare reflected the soft radiant glow.

The clown seemingly didn’t notice. “I just think a god would be useful right now. Or goddess. A higher power, you know? Someone to pull the strings a little and clean things up.”

Hancock snorted and shook his head. “That’s the normalest you’ve sounded all day, you know that?”

“What could you possibly mean, friend?” asked the clown so ridiculously, Hancock couldn’t tell if he was genuinely asking or simply spiting him.

“...nevermind.”

The clown eyed him with visible confusion, mid-nod with his mouth hanging open.“If you say so.”

Hancock found his way there again, staring up at the blank-faced idol. It made him uneasy looking at it, as if it was really alive and looking back at him. Briefly he wondered if gods did exist, and if they did, did any of them particularly enjoy this hellish tribute? If he was a god, he would want something a little more...flattering. A nice statue, not big, but expertly crafted to reflect his likeness, huffing Jet, probably. It didn’t get more reflective than that, he thought with a chuckle. All his followers would probably be chemheads, running around high and wearing tricorn hats and shit. All in the name of the mighty Hancock, patron of...euphoria and sarcastic assholery. It had a ring to it. 

He sighed, turning his back from the shrine. He crossed over towards one of the railings and looked out towards the moonlit Wasteland. Jak was out there somewhere. He’d be there, to save her, rescue her, take her home. Like every stupid god in every stupid story, he’d be there to guide her from the darkness, take her back to the light...or the next closest thing.

But he wasn’t a god, and he was never good at saving people. Recent events only proved this. 

Earlier events had, though, hadn’t they?

True, he’d allowed Vic’s cruelty to remain underway for far longer than anyone should have. He wasn’t proud of when he stood by, and he stood by a lot. 

But he was the one that finally stood up, took out the trash that needed taken out. The noose around Vic’s neck was a testament that he didn’t need to be a god to get shit done. He already led his people from darkness, he already had his followers. It was no secret that the mayor would die for his people, and many of them were more than willing to do the same for him. He wasn’t a god but people looked up to him. People _ needed _him.

Jak needed him. 

He wondered if she could see the moon too. He stared at it for a moment, willing his entire being to somehow transfer its energy into a single thought for her to comprehend: 

_ I’m coming _. 

He only felt a little foolish, thinking he could send her telepathic messages through the moon, but hell...weirder things happened every day. 

“Still awake, are you?”

Hancock nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to face the clown, except...he didn’t look like a clown anymore. Just a normal, gangly, strong-jawed, thin-lipped, ghostly-eyed guy, wearing a fade blue-striped pajama set. A quick glance revealed dirty pink bunny slippers on his feet. Where did this guy get bunny slippers from? “I could ask you the same question! Jesus, man, don’t sneak up on me like that.” He’d hate to accidentally knife him in the gut.

“I’m not Jesus, trust me,” the clown giggled. 

Well, there was no doubt about that. “What’s with the getup, anyways?”

“The what?”

“You know what I’m talkin’ about. The--” Hancock dramatically swept his hands from his face down his body, then around his general area.

The clown still looked like Hancock was speaking a different language.

“From one freak to another, I know an act when I see one. You’re honestly telling me this whole thing ain’t some sick pretend game? The makeup? Acting like a lunatic? Sending people to fight deathclaws in arenas?”

The clown stared for a while before turning to lean against the wood railing. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable: soft, laden with sorrow. “I let some people down. People that relied on me. We….” He paused. “We built this place to be strange, fun, safe...a getaway. Some people lived here, others just stopped by to take a break from the world. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all they needed. Somewhere to sit, somewhere to sleep, somewhere to eat. The games were just...an added bonus. Most people had never even heard of Whac-A-Commie.” He smiled, but it faded quickly. “I grew tired of looking in the mirror and seeing the face of a man who should have been dead.”

Hancock raised his brows at such a suddenly drastic statement.

“I found the coat at a museum, the paint at a costume shop, and the hat on the body of an old friend. I turned myself into this...fool, this jester, so I could live with myself. Laugh at myself. And in turn, laugh at everything else that’s wrong with this world.”

“How’s that working out for ya?”

The clown shooked his head with a bitter snort. 

“You know, I’m just not understandin’ where the ‘feeding people to deathclaws’ bit came from.”

“Oh, that? What can I say...I get bored.” He shrugged.

Hancock decided to lay that conversation to rest. “I’m...gonna try and get some sleep,” he said, pushing off from the railing. 

The clown nodded as Hancock walked away, then, without looking over, said, “It’s only pretend if no one else believes you.”

* * * *

Hancock barely slept, keeping more of an eye on the progressive lightening of the night sky. Once dawn broke, he roused everyone from their sleep, insisting they prepare to set out. The clown had suggested simply following the railroad tracks south, looking to their right when they passed a white station tower. There they’d see the village atop the ruins of the flooded town. It was the best lead they had, so Hancock was anxious to be on their way. The clown insisted on providing the group with one more meal before heading out. Hancock didn’t feel he could truly deny them that, but as soon as it was finished, they were gone.

  
  


It was a relatively quiet trek, save for the crunch of gravel beneath their feet as they tread carefully over the train tracks. 

The thought of the two that died weighed down upon them, on Hancock at least. He wanted to blame the clown, but somehow the finger was always pointing back at himself. 

Figures. 

Nick walked at Hancock’s side, his jaw set sullenly. The synth hadn’t said much either, just kept his eyes on the ground or the track ahead. They climbed over a pile of cargo containers that blocked the way, Nick offering Hancock a hand to pull him up. 

“Here.”

Hancock accepted, grasping the wiry hand, cool to the touch from the brisk air around them. “Thanks.” Then, with a sideways look, “You okay, Nick?”

“Just thinkin’,” he replied, narrowing his eyes as he looked on. “What are we gonna do when we finally find this village?”

“What do you mean, we’re gonna go in there and get Jak back.”

“How? We weren’t a very big group to start, and we’ve only gotten smaller. Say these people outnumber us--they likely do--then what?”

“We’ll figure it out, man, don’t worry.”

Nick turned. “Hancock, we _ need _to worry. We have to think this through.”

“You don’t think I have?” he shot back defensively.

“Not all the way, no….”

Hancock looked away in a sulking kind of way, shaking his head. “I can’t _ stop _thinking about it. You know this.”

“But have you thought it _ through _?”

“Jak wipes out raider camps and tussles with Apex--and she lives. Have the kind of faith in us that she has in herself.”

“I...suppose you make a valid argument there. I’m just sayin’, we need to be careful. _ You _need to be careful,” he added with a soft but nevertheless pointed look. 

Hancock knew what he was referring to. Eyes, and judgement, were on him, now more than ever.

They found the tower just moments after dealing with some stingwings. Sure enough, to their right, through a tangled thicket of dying trees, they could see the Bloodsworn village, the rickety constructions and steady trickle of people. By the looks of things, both possible access points were cut off with gates and guards. 

“Think we can take those guards out from here?”

“Hancock….” Nick looked at the ghoul with a pained face. “We can’t do this.”

“Why the hell not, man? Jak is _ right in there _!”

“Look at them, pal. There’s too many. Who knows how many more we can’t see from here. And how many raiders have you seen build their own villages? These aren’t normal raiders...look at them.”

Even from this distance, Hancock could note a particular fierceness about them, along with a sort of sophistication. It didn’t look like much but it was a rather complex site. Pathways led in and out of ruined buildings and bridged rooftops. It was almost like...an entire culture lived there, the way he could see them interact with each other. Not like rabid dogs, but like...people. 

“Nick….”

“I’m sorry, Hancock.”

Hancock stared at the synth, lost for words. Then, cursing, pounded a fist against the nearest tree. 

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna stop doing specific warnings--there *is* a reason I chose not to tag any to begin with. There's always something I could miss. With that being said, this chapter is really dark, a new kind of low for Jak. Consider that your warning?

It felt like her life was on repeat, like...a broken record?

The sky wore the same cold, dead face, the wind whispered the same forboding words, Behemoth shoved her forward the same bruising way. The Bloodsworn carried out their same disturbing lives of slaughter and survival and sacrifice. Their village reeked the same, like a burning, rotting carcass. Their leader pushed her same proposition to Jak, encouraging her to murder the same old man with the same ceremonial blade. And Jak refused, looked away from the man, the same that she always did. They’d lash at her with the same mocking taunts, throw her back in the same fucking boxcar, and repeat. 

It left her with the same question, every time. 

“What if I killed him?” she whispered to the dark.

They told her they’d let her go, for proving her repentance. As if she needed that. To feel regret for her actions. No one made her regret her actions, especially not raving freaks. But even if she pretended...if she just pretended...they’d let her go. 

So say she killed him. The frail, helpless, innocent man. She could convince herself she was putting him out of his misery. He was enslaved, wasn’t he? Slavery was misery. She could end it for him. It would be merciful, wouldn’t it? 

“Mercy for mercy.”

But could she live with it?

She’d killed before. Lots of times. Sometimes she had to. 

Did she always have to?

“You sound like Cait,” she scorned herself. The thought of her seized Jak’s heart with an icy claw. What she wouldn’t do just to hear her girl’s voice again. But she could, couldn’t she? In her head, just now. The familiar strangeness of her accent, the way her tongue leapt and lilted over every syllable. The icy claw held on tighter. 

Sometimes she had to kill. Did she now?

She’d never killed an innocent person before. She killed raiders a lot, and raiders were never innocent. It was funny to her, the whole Commonwealth liked to treat raiders as an entire group of people, an entire faction. She’d learned, though. She knew better. You couldn’t just generalize them. Raiders came in all shapes and sizes. 

“But none of them are innocent.”

She wasn’t innocent, either. She’d killed, she’d killed a lot, but only because she had to. She wasn’t innocent though. No one was in the wasteland. So what would one more kill matter? She didn’t know if he was innocent. She didn’t know him. It was always so much easier to kill them when you didn’t know them. It only got hard when they talked to her. Tried to tell her things, bad things about herself.

“He called me a monster,” she quietly remembered Pike’s dying words. He was right. She was a monster. She killed and she killed and she never felt remorse for it. Why should she? Why should she feel bad for killing the man? No one made her regret her actions, especially not weak and helpless old men. 

What _ if _she killed him? 

No one would miss him. She never did like killing someone with a family. It was cruel. She wasn’t cruel. She used to have a family. She was the only one left. Cruel. Did she have a family? Cait, Hancock, Nick...even Styx. Were they a family?

“They’re gone,” she reminded herself. They would never find her. Hancock wouldn’t come for her. She’d brought him, and all of Goodneighbor, enough trouble. Nick wouldn’t come for her. She fucked that up ages ago. Styx had no reason to come. Why would they care? And Cait…. 

Jak began to weep...almost. She felt her face screw up, felt her throat tighten against the torrent of emotions, felt her shoulders shudder...then it was gone, teasing the kind of release she so desperately needed. Her eyes burned spitefully with tears that never fell, her chest aching with sobs that never escaped. She began to breathe short, vicious breaths, gritting her teeth. Shakily, she hoisted herself off of the floor, catching herself on the wall as her legs threatened to give out from beneath her. Pushing off with her elbow, she staggered towards the door of the boxcar.

With a roar, she launched her fist into it. 

“Let me out of here!” she screamed, punching the door again. She screamed and punched like this until she could feel the crater her fists were leaving in the metal. Until she couldn’t feel her hand. Until the door slid open, mid-blow. It was too sudden to make out the figure standing against the mocking stretch of starry sky. Having lost her already-shaky balance, the figure’s powerful hands shoved her back onto the floor easily. Something barked about shutting up, and then the door slammed, the floor shivered beneath Jak’s body. 

She fell apart, allowing her cheek to touch the cold metal floor, letting it seep into her skin, almost numbing that side of her face. She then tucked a hand into the pit of her arm, holding it there for a while, waiting. When she finally put the warm hand to her cheek, she shut her eyes. She’d done that a lot lately, imagining Cait holding her in the dark each time.

Cait would come. 

But how? _ How _? 

No one had found her yet. What was so special about Cait?

“She loves me.”

Did she? Or was she secretly glad Jak was gone, glad to be rid of the vengeance and the darkness Jak brought with her like a plague? She knew Cait disapproved. Cait had said so many times. Jak knew what the girl thought of her. 

But Cait still loved her. She still loved her after all of that. Cait would never leave her, no matter how much she disapproved. Jak knew that. Cait would come find her or die trying, wouldn’t she? She was probably out there now. She was out there now, it was just going to be awhile because of how far the Bloodsworn took her.

“She’s out there now….”

If she was out there now, then Jak should have been out there with her. They should have been together, making these people pay for what they were doing to her. They should have been out there.

With a low, almost animal-like growl, Jak pushed herself off the floor, running for the door. The growl exploded into another roar as she punched at the door again, deepening the metal crater, splitting her knuckles that had been trying to heal. This time when the door opened, she pounced at the figure in the door, not caring who it was. It startled them, prompting them to fall to the ground. She ripped and pounded at every inch of skin she could, tearing at the face, the throat, spit flying from her snarling mouth. Then a strong hand caught her arm, giving it a sharp twist. The pain brought Jak out of her frenzy long enough to see she was on top of Maul, before he bucked his hips, shunting Jak forward. She caught herself before she could faceplant into the ground, but this was the only opportunity Maul needed. He wrapped his arms around her abdomen, curling to force his head into her stomach, and threw her off of him.

He rolled and pinned her arms to the ground, a domineering smile on his bloodied face. One glistening red eye was beginning to swell. “There is still fight in you yet!” he rumbled.

Jak slammed her knee into his back. It shook the man, but his grip on her arms was steadfast. 

“I do enjoy it when they fight,” he said, sneering. 

Jak squirmed and twisted to get out from underneath him. She could feel every muscle in her arms straining as she brought her restrained wrists together. She was able to grab one of Maul’s hands and twist it off of her, potentially opening a window, but he gave her face a heavy-handed smack. 

Time slowed down as her head rocked from the impact. Pins and needles spread through her cheek, her eyes watering from the sting of it. Her body seemed to sink, as if dragged below water. The pins and needles didn’t stop spreading. They slowly crawled through her body like thousands of sharp-legged insects. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Each breathe she took was a shuddering echo. A sudden urge to flee washed over her. 

She couldn’t be back. 

How was she back? 

She tried to run, but she could’t. She could see the sky, its ember incandescence looming above her. She could feel the rocky dirt digging into her back, the hands that held her limbs apart, that struck her face if she squirmed. She could taste the dirt that filled her mouth as she choked and screamed for her mother, screamed for the safety of the bars and the rags and the cold nights spent huddled for warmth. She could hear the hot breath speak over her ear. 

But she could never run.

“I have a proposition,” Maul said as he leaned closer, spewing that hot breath on Jak’s face. “A favor for a favor.”

Jak surfaced from the murky and uncharted waters of her past, greeting the present with a frenzied scream.

Mustering all the power she had left, she slammed the top of her head into Maul’s face. He reared back with a yell, clutching at the new stream of blood trickling sluggishly from his nose and busted lips. Jak wriggled free and immediately tried to tackle him back to the ground, but Maul was far stronger and resisted the girl’s push, shoving her away. She crumpled back to the ground, struggling to stand up. Maul was already on his feet, striding towards her. 

He grabbed her throat with one hand, forcing her to her feet against the boxcar. “It is not a secret you want to be free. I cannot set you free, but I can give you a taste of it, every night. Let you out of this cage. Such a wild creature as yourself does not deserve to be caged.”

“I’m not some...fucking animal,” Jak managed to hiss.

“But here you are, spitting and snarling as if you _ were _.”

“You’re...the fucking animal. I’m...gonna kill you all.”

Maul slowly pressed onto her, speaking now into her ear. “I am certain you will, little beast.” With his free hand he pawed at Jak’s body. “Show me just how untamed you really are.” 

With renewed ferocity, Jak grabbed Maul’s head and slammed it into the boxcar. She slammed her elbow into his stunned face, kneeing him in the groin, launching a new assault. 

Maul laughed, albeit in a breathless kind of way. He launched his fist into Jak’s stomach. She doubled over, winded, retching. He knocked her backward, causing her to collapse into the boxcar. A shooting star tore through the sky behind Maul’s looming figure before he slammed the door behind him.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to face him in the dark. “I have heard the red-haired girl means a lot to you.”

Her blood ran cold. “You leave her alone!” she screamed at him.

“Then let this happen, little beast. Favor for a favor.”

Her body seemed to sink again….

* * * *

“You’re not real,” Jak told Cait. 

The girl was standing in a corner of the boxcar, leaned up against the wall. Jak was certain it was her, even in the blackness. She could _ feel _her, from the moment she woke up. 

But it couldn’t be her.

Could it?

“You’re not real,” Jak repeated, her voice hoarse from her throat being crushed. 

“Can’t say that I am, love.”

“So I’m going crazy?”

There was a pause. “It’s plausible.”

Sitting against the wall, Jak nodded, almost thoughtfully. This is why she never made wishes. They always went to shit.

“We’re gonna make him pay, Jak.” Cait was crouched in front of Jak now. “We’re gonna make ‘em _ all _pay.”

“You won’t,” whispered Jak. “I will, and you’ll fuckin’ lecture me for it. You’ll lecture and worry and--” 

Cait shook her head. “Not this time...not this time.”

“You’re not even real. The _ real _Cait won’t.”

“You don’t know that yet,” Cait said, grabbing Jak’s hands. 

Trembling, Jak raised her hands to hold Cait’s face. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing there. “Cait?”

No reply came, save for the silence.

Jak felt like she could have cried, but she didn’t have it in her. She felt...hollow. Even moreso now that Cait was gone. 

“Cait was never there,” she reminded herself.

But it _ felt _like it. Everything had been taken from her all over again, and it felt like she had just a little piece of who she was back. Not anymore though. Not anymore. She was still alone. She was still in a cage.

And she hated herself for it.

She hated herself for being so _ weak_, for being so _ stupid_, for allowing herself to be _ broken, again_ and again. She never should have been here. But she was, and she was paying for it dearly with her own fucking sanity. 

She hated herself for letting Maul have his way, but she hated herself most for knowing he wasn’t the first that had.

Why hadn’t she remembered before? 

Deep down she had always known _ something _happened. She had always known it had happened often. When she was old enough to figure out exactly what they did to her mother, she’d had a sickening idea of what happened. But she could never remember...and it never mattered. It had never mattered before, it didn’t need to matter then. She tucked the idea back into her mind and carried on with her life. Because what she did remember was much more important. Her parents. Her parents were dead. And she’d seen it all. That’s all that mattered.

But now...it was different. Locked in the boxcar, she had nothing to do but remember. 

Everytime Maul was in there, she remembered a little bit more.

The more she remembered, the more she wished she could forget. She already felt powerless, but she felt it twofold now, as if it was happening in her past and her present at the exact moment every time. Were there two hands or eight? One voice or four? Cold metal or rugged earth? Darkness or light? Piece by piece she put it together against her own will, until she couldn’t drag herself out of the picture. It played over and over in her mind. The only solace she could find anymore was in those brief moments where she was allowed outside, where she could stare at the moon and hope to any fucking god out there that someone else was staring at it too, that they would hear her cry out for any help she could get.

Knowing her luck, she would regret that too.

  
  
  



	31. Chapter 31

Cait looked like she’d just got out of a particularly rough fight, but all she’d done was lie in bed all day. Wrapped in a blanket, dried blood was crusted onto her upper lip, and her eyes were bloodshot and bruised. Black and blue blossomed on her wrists, tender and painful to the touch. Nothing she wasn’t used to, and she was more worried about Jak than herself. So she grabbed a stimpak and waited for Styx to fetch a wet rag, like always.

The bloody noses kept coming. The bruises kept blossoming. But the stimpaks stopped working, and the more she caught herself worrying about it, the more she realized she was losing hope. Not for her own good, but for Jak’s. Because every day she looked in that bloody mirror and saw her own pathetic reflection was another day Jak wasn’t right there beside her. Sometimes she’d forget Styx had left, expecting Hancock or Valentine to be behind the door whenever there was a knock. But no, Styx was just too polite to enter the room unannounced. 

“You don’t have to fuckin’ knock, Styx!” Cait used to reprimand, followed by a hasty apology, but she didn’t have the energy to do that anymore. She would use all of it to get out of bed and open the door for Styx. They wouldn’t do that either, even when implored to do so. She couldn’t hold it against the weirdo. That weirdo was the only company she had anymore. 

That was until today.

Because the knock on the door wasn’t Styx, it _ was _ Valentine.

“Cait, right?”

Her heart hammered in her chest, her mouth going drier than it had been before. Jak wasn't with him…. “Did you find her?”

Predictably, the synth frowned. Cait swore she heard something in his facial mechanisms creak. “Hancock wanted me to check up on you while him and Fahrenheit convened. There's, ah...a lot on the mayor’s plate right now.”

“No kidding,” Cait let out a sigh as she eased herself back onto her bed. “I ain’t dead yet so you can tell him not to worry.”

“Worry may just be Hancock’s middle name,” chuckled Nick, scratching the back of his neck.

“Me and him both.”

The silence that followed Cait’s words was awkward, the synth standing stiffly by the door. His eyes were scanning the room curiously, but Cait could tell he wasn’t sure what to say, or do, for that matter. She let her eyes close, felt the leaden weight of their lids like a curtain being lowered, blacking out the shitshow she knew every line of. 

“Jak’s a tough gal, you know.”

Cait knew that line too. It played on repeat in her mind as the only pitiful reassurance she could offer herself. She opened her eyes, finding herself greeted with a bottle of water and a kind smile, curtesy of Nick Valentine.

She grabbed the bottle. “Yeah...I know that. Tough can only take you so far though.”

“It’s taken her this far. What’s a little further?” 

Life or death, maybe. She wiped a dribble of water from her chin with the back of her hand.

“Has she ever told you about the day she came to Diamond City?”

“Not quite.” Jak never really mentioned Nick outside of the one-time telling of the gun-pulling incident. Even that hadn’t been detailed.

“She was almost tossed out by security. Folks wanted her gone before she even stepped foot inside the gate.”

“No shite? What for?”

“Nothing, really. Supposedly she kept stumbling through town, sobbing and repeating the words ‘I made it.’” Nick grimaced. “People still hadn’t forgot about Broken Mask, and thought she was another synth sent to infiltrate the City. I heard all the commotion and, well, all I saw was some miserable teenager being manhandled by the guards. I told them off and took her back to my office, tried to talk to her, figure out who she was.”

“She was Jak,” murmured Cait, trying to envision what Nick was describing.

“She was Jak,” he concurred. “It took her awhile to open up to me. Kid always looked like she was on the verge of tears, but there was always something else in her eyes, something wild. I let her stay with me until I could persuade the mayor to give her her own house. It was a bit of a squeeze seeing as I already had Ellie with me. That’s my assistant,” he added at Cait’s confused expression. “She wasn’t much older than Jak at the time.” 

“Ah,” Cait mouthed. “So what then?”

“Well, after getting her a place of her own, and just generally treating her like a human being, she started talking. Not a lot at first, she would only mutter greetings and ‘thank yous’ and the like. But with time, and some gentle prodding, she talked. I didn’t wanna...well let’s just say it was a little hard to listen. But I knew I had to do something. So I made myself listen to the horrible stories she told me. Near-death experiences and dark inner monologues, I heard it all from her. I couldn’t tell if she didn’t have a filter on her mouth or if she just couldn’t bear to keep it in.

At first I saw her as a client, my youngest for the record. She’d gotten into this routine, of sorts. Checking in the morning to see if I was awake, ask me if I needed anything. Then she’d help out around town, simple chores and errands for caps or food. Then every night, I had her over at the agency, fed her dinner, played cards with her and Ellie." He smiled wistfully. "She’d ask what I accomplished on her case, but...well I never had anything to give her. The way she’d look at me...her face, full of sadness and disappointment….” 

Nick trailed off, but Cait knew exactly what look he was referring to. She didn’t imagine it had changed very much since then.

“It was when she’d give me that look that I realized she was more than a client to me. She was...well, she was like a daughter.” He began to pace around the room, telling the story with his hands as much as his increasingly-frustrated voice. “I never had the feeling that she trusted anyone except for me. I was teaching her everything I could because she refused to go to the City’s school. Things she’d never known about, never had anyone to explain to her! Whether it was how to swim or how water freezes or how her own damned body worked, I was there, helping her learn. And to think that I was letting her down….”

He pounded his fist flat against the wall, bowing his head. There was a crackle of something in his voice Cait identified as regret. She sort of felt bad, watching this poor synth bloke beat himself up over the past. A past Jak had never spoke of. 

“She got tired of it, I think. People do things when they’re desperate. So when she pulled a gun on me, when she’d finally gotten tired of being let down, I had her thrown out of my office. When word spread, the rest of town wanted her thrown out for good.” 

Cait wondered if synths could cry. If so, Nick was definitely crying right now. 

“I didn’t want her gone. I just...I didn’t want her hurting Ellie. I couldn’t give a damn what she did to me, but I didn’t want Ellie hurt. Or anyone else in Diamond City, for that matter. What was stopping her from….” He shook his head. “I wonder if we’d even be here right now if I’d just...tried to understand. If she’d been able to stay.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Cait offered, unsure of how else to comfort the synth she’d never had a bloody conversation with until today. 

Nick shrugged, looking exhausted. “I just want you to know that girl of yours is a fighter. I can’t see her going down without raising hell first.”

There was another knock on the door. 

Nick tilted his head. “Care if I…?”

Cait gave a nonchalant wave of her hand.

Nick opened the door, revealing Styx, rag in hand. The Enigma stared at the synth, wide-eyed as they stepped past Nick, not taking their eyes off of him. 

“Don’t worry, pal, I was just leaving,” Nick said, not unkindly. “You take care of her, alright?”

Styx nodded frantically, clearly frightened by the sight of Valentine. As soon as the door closed behind him, Styx lunged for their notepad.

“He’s cool, Styx. Don’t worry.”

Styx cast one last furtive glance at the door, then frowned. They circled their fingers, putting them around their very widened eyes.

“Yeah, it’s a little creepy at first.”

They nodded, then mimicked robotic movements, finishing off with an exaggerated shudder.

“Nick’s...he’s a good guy,” Cait smiled a little. She stood up, intending to walk over to the mirror, but the sharp strain of her muscles forced her back down. “Dammit,” she grunted.

Styx had their notepad in hand. “I can do it for you if you like.”

Cait pondered the words carefully. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea. It’s not like she was incapable of cleaning her own damn face. She was so damn tired though…. “Yeah, sure,” she sighed, laying herself back into the bed. 

Styx nodded, not appearing uncomfortable at all as they knelt beside Cait, gently rubbing the blood off of Cait’s face. 

Surprisingly, though, it wasn’t that uncomfortable for Cait either. On the contrary, she sort of enjoyed it. Being taken care of. She loathed admitting it but she was weak, weaker than she was comfortable being. It was comforting to have Styx around, because although Styx wasn’t Jak, they also weren’t even comparable. Two different people, two different circumstances, two different kinds of affection. Styx was just...a friend. Cait had never had many of those. 

For a third time, there was a sharp, quick knock on the door. 

“C’mon in,” Cait grumbled as Styx finished cleaning her up. 

The door popped open, Hancock sticking his head in. “Interrupting anything?” At the shake of Cait’s head, he stepped in. He strode over to the bed, both Cait and Styx watching him curiously as he sat himself at the foot of it with a groan. “We know where Jak is.”

Cait sat up as if something bit her. “Why didn’t Valentine say so? I asked and he--”

“I wanted to tell you after I knew the game plan. Didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

“I’m doin’ nothin’ _ but _ hanging,” she uttered, shaking her head.

“I know doll, I--”

“So where is she? Why isn’t she here yet?”

Hancock was frowning, his lips pressed tight. He looked away, eyes cast to the ceiling, blinking profusely. “We can’t get her yet.”

“And why the fuck not?!”

“We don’t have the numbers. Not after...everything. They’ve got a town, Cait, like a village, just crawling with raiders--if that’s what they even are. And we...we can’t do it yet.”

Cait was staring at the mayor with fire in her eyes that was not meant for him. He was still burnt though. 

“Look,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to gather whatever Watch I have left. And we have Nick. We have Fahrenheit. I came here ‘cause I wanted to let you know, we’re doing all we can, but there’s not a lot we can do, not while we’re that outgunned. That’s why I also came here to talk to you,” Hancock turned to Styx, who pointed at themselves in exasperation. “Yeah. You….” he trailed off, wincing to himself. “We don’t have many allies here in Goodneighbor. Not without reason, I don’t suppose, but...I just...your folks wouldn’t have any man-power to spare, would they?”

“You want Enigma to fight with Goodneighbor?” Styx wrote out.

“Yeah, that’s...pretty much where we’re at.”

Cait snorted. “You really think the Enigma could--”

Styx thrusted their notepad forward, casting Cait an unsteady look. “I will try. Talk to family. Jak saved my ass. Want to return the favor.”

Breaking into a triumphant laugh, Hancock grinned. “I fuckin’ owe you one. Hey,” his face grew more serious, “no pressure but um...this kinda needs to happen ASAP.”

Styx nodded, ambiguous features defined with determination. “Will leave tomorrow,” they wrote.

“You think you can do this on your own, Styx?” Cait asked. 

Styx snorted. “Not a child. Will be okay.”

So long as they didn’t stop at anymore monster ponds. Cait seriously doubted Styx’s maturity, or any bit of common sense they may actually have. But she wasn’t in a position to argue. And...she wouldn’t, would she? Even if she could. Because Styx wanted to help Jak. And so did Hancock. They were willing to step up for her. They were the only ones that would. Could. Cait wouldn’t dare get in the way of that. 

Jak’s life depended on them, didn’t it? It had right from the start. 


	32. Chapter 32

Styx was not familiar with this part of the Commonwealth, nor were they used to undertaking their own solo endeavors, but here they were, strolling past the still waters of the monster pond, seemingly bare of monster. A cold wind caused their robe to flap about their feet, sending chills like fingers reaching up the garment. Styx wrapped their arms tightly against theirself, denying the chill fingers further access. That was their robe. The fingers could not have it.

The way home was not hard. Actually, they could remember quite well the path Jak took from home to the Goodneighbor place. So it was just backwards. And easy, very easy, especially when they found the ancient school they had been Relaying. They paused, admiring the Great Speaker’s message, feeling the power of the words emanating from the wall. They approached them, tracing them with their fingers, feeling reinvigorated for their journey. They could imagine the purple color flow through the tips of their fingers, spreading throughout their body, as if the soul of the first Great Speaker himself was inhabiting it. He could stay as long as he liked. Styx could use the company as much as the spiritual reinforcement. After all, this task was daunting. It was not often the Enigma listened to Styx, even the times when their judgement was clearly superior to that of their brethren. Admittedly, that may be because it was not often their judgement was superior in the first place. What could Styx say? They were young. No doubt that was an influential factor whenever the other Enigma decided to ignore Styx’s ideas. They hoped this did not complicate their task at all.

The return was neither warm nor welcome. No one seemed to notice Styx hurrying through the gates. They continued their silent conversations, speaking with their hands as was customary. Styx caught a few sideways glances, feeling the familiar weight of judgement on their shoulders. No matter how many times they shrugged it off, unloading it on the ground and burying it deep below, there was always someone else to dig it back up, place it back on their shoulders. With just a sideways glance. Styx was always amazed at the power of silence, how some used it in ways more harmful than any words ever could be.

That is what Qualm was good at.

The boy had reached his sixteenth age only a pair of years ago, putting him just behind Styx. He had only ever acted as if he was centuries past Styx. Not that a human could exist for centuries. Except the burnt ones. Styx had no idea how they were alive. Qualm, though, had always treated Styx with disdain, belittling them for being an outsider, never ceasing to let them forget they were not trusted. In truth, many of the Enigma shared this sentiment, save for a select few and, of course, the Great Speaker, who, from the beginning, encouraged Styx to close their heart from the ridicule of their brethren. Qualm insisted on making that a difficult task, even now.

He strode haughtily from the table he had been sitting at, making a point of blocking Styx’s path. “Thought you were gone for good, outsider,” he gestured with wide, boasting motions.

“You would hope,” Styx returned, eyes narrowed. They moved to step past Qualm, but he mirrored the motion.

“As we all would. The Speaker only tolerates you out of pity.” His face twisted into a cruel sneer as he said the next words. “She should have left you to the mongrels.”

“I close my heart to you,” Styx moved their hands furiously, shoving past Qualm. 

He seized Styx’s arm, speaking with the other. “Careful there, andy. You should always watch where you are going.” He let go.

Qualm’s favorite label stung more than Styx wished it did. As often as they had heard the insult, it still struck them across the face every time. It was only a shorthand for “androgynous,” a word the Speaker taught them when they were younger as a means to claim their own identity. 

“This is the best word I have to describe you on the _ outside _, dear Styx,” she had told them, her words racing back from time to soothe Styx, “but it is only how we describe you on the inside that should matter. That, child, is up to you entirely.” 

Of course, Qualm only ever saw the word as one more reminder of Styx’s estrangement. The reminders were always sharp, invisible little cuts only Styx could see and only the Speaker could heal. But Styx was not seeking audience with the Speaker for healing. Not this time.

“Styx!” The Speaker’s voice always washed over them like warm, loving water, inviting them to cleanse theirself from the dirt of the world. “It is good to see you again! But you are alone,” she added, what little that was visible of her face showing clear concern. “What has happened?”

Styx sat before the Speaker, accepting the cushion she offered them. “It’s good to be back, but I fear the circumstances that have brought me here are...dire.” 

“How so, dear?”

Styx stared, pondering their next words. “Jak’s been captured by the Bloodsworn, Great Speaker. The mayor of Goodneighbor has requested our assistance in getting her back.”

The Speaker nodded calmly, tapping her fingers at an equal pace. “The mayor of Goodneighbor...what is that?”

“He leads them, Speaker. He’s sort of like...Goodneighbor’s own Speaker.”

“Ah, of course, of course. How silly of me. And he requires our assistance?”

“Yes. Goodneighbor doesn’t have the numbers sufficient enough to confront the Bloodsworn and rescue Jak.” 

The Speaker was silent.

Styx felt their heart trying to claw its way out of their chest. Silently they scorned the heart, commanding it to settle down. It refused to obey. The Speaker’s silence was particularly wracking of Styx’s nerves. Though they trusted the Speaker to listen to them, they were very aware of how demanding this particular demand was. 

“Jak is certainly valuable to us,” the Speaker finally spoke, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“More than valuable, Speaker. She is a friend. An ally. And...she has saved my life.”

The Speaker tilted her head, the glint of an eye just visible as the hood hung off the side of her head. “Is that so?” 

Styx nodded, feeling their face burn. “I was...foolish. My curiosity landed me into trouble, but Jak was willing to risk her own life to protect mine.”

“She does not sound like the Jak I had the pleasure of meeting,” the Speaker laughed, a serene and serendipitous gesture.

“She isn’t,” said Styx with a frown. “Please, Speaker, she...she needs us.”

The Speaker’s tongue swept over her painted lips for a moment as she considered the young Enigma’s plea. “Tell this mayor I shall think on it. I shall need to commune with the Great Speaker first.”

“She doesn’t have much time, we must--”

The Speaker held up a bandaged hand. “When words fail, Styx.”

Styx felt the taunting burn of tears in their eyes, but the Speaker turned the silencing hand gesture into a gentle inclination of Styx’s chin.

“Do not fret, child. The Bloodsworn...they are animals. Jak is, among many things, resilient. As are you. She will be alright for now.”

“I needed saved from animals,” Styx muttered, feeling shame like a sharp stone lodging itself inside their throat. But Hancock had not described the Bloodsworn as if they were animals. Styx knew the Great Speaker was often too proud for her own good. They did not enjoy admitting it, but they did not enjoy denying it either. Jak was in the hands of people, not animals, no matter how much the Speaker thought so. “Jak might need saved too.”

“Have you no faith in your friend?”

“Have you no idea of what it’s like to be helpless and alone?!”

Styx immediately regretted their words. 

The Speaker inhaled deeply, the only thing audible in that silence. She carefully pulled off her hood, revealing a short spill of dark hair over one eye like brown brick in the sunlight, and another that spoke of fog and spirits and fear. Styx never had liked to look at the tiny moon sunken into the socket of the Speaker’s scarred, coppery skin. The cruel, twisting burns shined with multi-colored malice, reflecting the tangles of lights in the room. “Ask me again, Styx,” she said, her cool voice crackling with bridled power, her one good eye glistening like starshine and secrets.

“I-I’m sorry, Speaker, I-I-I--”

“Tell this mayor I will think on it.”

“Y-yes, Speaker. I’m--”

She brought her hand back up. “Do not apologize. It is time for you to return, Styx. I will send a friend to inform you of my decision.”

Styx nodded, silently accepting the wasted time before muttering their thanks. They crawled down the ladder of the tower as the Speaker slipped the hood back over her face.

* * * *

Styx had not expected to see New Gods today.

The young Enigma had grown to always be weary of others, strange or familiar. Jak had been the exception, and by extension Cait. A friend of Jak’s could be a friend of Styx’s, even if that friend was blunt. But Jak, something about her made Styx want to trust her. Maybe it was the knowledge that they had shared the same experience, suffered from the same monster. There were many like them and Jak. Styx knew this, and had felt the same unconventional trust they did in Jak in the only other orphan they had talked to. He too had suffered. 

But the New Gods, they were stranger than any of Styx’s wildest, darkest dreams, more familiar than the back of their own hand. They were past, present, and future, the kind of weight on Styx's shoulders that could only be buried with their lifeless corpse. They were whispers in the daylight and laughter in the night, contradictory in every way imaginable. Never did Styx want to relive that morning, the one that danced like fires and false hope in the back of their head, but that morning had been the last time they did not feel so helplessly, utterly alone. There was no confusion or insult, no struggle or search, no darkness or death. Only the light of love. And when Styx saw those wretched masks, bones of the desperate and powerless draped with fabric tongues of blood red, they longed, for a moment, for the time that had existed before that light was smothered.

The light of the Commonwealth, however, was just running out for the day. The fiery hues of a setting sun only emphasized the garb of the two New Gods ahead, turning blood red into something far more vibrant and vicious. Styx clung to the shade, hugging walls steeped in rubble just to avoid the skeletal grimaces. The raiders made no notice of them, the pair continuing in a quiet patrol down the ruined street.

Why were they there?

Styx had come to learn that the New Gods only left Apex’s side when ordered to do very specific tasks. Apex had promised the Enigma protection in exchange for their unwilling servitude, however not a single New God had ever been at the Enigma’s home, not since Styx had been there. The protection was more of an unspoken illusion meant to instill fear of noncompliance, but not all broken promises hurt. Styx was glad the New Gods had never been around. Apex already reached deep enough into the hearts of the Enigma with lies and fear.

So the two New Gods patrolling right now must have been up to something significant enough to Apex for him to send his own men, and not a more expendable alternative.

Styx refused to be the expendable alternative any longer.

They tread lightly, carefully, tailing the raiders. Stealth was never an area of expertise for Styx, nor was it for any of the Enigma. But in this moment, Styx silently thanked the Great Speaker for the years of silence, the way their feet fell noiselessly and their body uttered no note of fear, despite the great presence of the feeling. 

After some time, the raiders broke into small conversation, though Styx could only catch bits and pieces of it.

“...believe Father really wants this dump.”

“Are you questioning...judgement?”

“...without a deathwish. Why...City?”

“...the middle...Commonwealth. Imagine...unstoppable.”

“...already is.”

“Not yet.”

Two realizations befell Styx as they tucked theirself in a corner just as the New Gods stopped in their own tracks.

The first, one of those New Gods had once been an Enigma named Chamael. She and a handful of others had grown tired of the Enigma way, seeing true promise, protection, and power in Apex. For this handful, deemed only as Unclaimed by the current Great Speaker, they saw Apex as something tangible to believe in, something real. Personally, it was impossible for Styx to imagine abandoning the Great Speaker and all of his ways, chalking him up to an idea. It was obvious the Unclaimed were not meant to be Enigma if they had not felt the Great Speaker’s presence as Styx had many times. Still, it gnawed at Styx to accept that one of their own, and maybe more, were now New Gods. It gnawed that the Great Speaker, the Greatest of Speakers, had been mistaken.

What gnawed even more, however, was the second realization. 

If Styx was correct, Apex was planning to take control of Diamond City.


	33. Chapter 33

The tricorn hat folded uncomfortably against Jak’s belly as she clung to it, afraid of letting go, afraid it was the only thing keeping her grounded in the real world. 

“This is your fault, love,” Cait told her in a dejected, breathy way. “He was tryin’ to save you.”

“Shut up!” Jak yelled. Cait wasn’t real. 

“Every time he tried to help you, you spit in his face.”

“No….” This wasn’t Cait. The real Cait wouldn’t say that. Would she?

“Now he’s dead, Jak.”

“No...no, no,  _ no _ !” she screamed, throwing the hat. It couldn’t be real. Not if she didn’t let it be. Not if she didn’t let it.

The boxcar was pale, see the cruel moon. Now darkness.

Cait approached her, putting rough hands on her shoulders. “Look at me,” Cait said.

Jak shook her head, shaking. 

“I said  _ look at me _ ,” Cait demanded, forcing a frantic Jak to be still. “This will go quicker if you just look at me.” 

A shove, her back went cold first. Then her legs.

“Please, Jak,” Cait begged as she positioned herself on top of Jak. “Please just look at me.”

Fire, everything she had left turning to ash inside of her.

“Look at me,” Cait cried. 

It burned like fire, hellfire and hatred and the only thing left.

“That is a good little beast,” Cait sobbed, her tears falling like sweat on Jak’s cold chest. She could smell them. Salty. Burning. Everything burned.

“Don’t cry, Jak. We’ll kill him soon. We’ll kill them all.”

Kill. She tried that. The blood. The crumpled white body. She crossed the line. She kept crossing the line. 

Still, she burned.

  
  


* * * *

She was running.

Her legs felt frozen, every shaky step threatening to snap beneath her as she relearned how to move. She would fall, skid through stick and stone that slit and scraped through her sleeves, now thin tatters of fabric covering bruised and sore skin. She would laugh, yell at herself to get back up, keep running. She would cast terrified glances over her shoulder, look out for any predators. She was prey, leaving behind blood and broken twigs and boundless tracks. But she was free, freer than the tears threatening to freeze on her cheeks, freer than the choppy locks of her hair plastered to her face with sweat and filth, freer than the blood pooling within a bowl of bone.

No, she wouldn’t think about it. She was free. She never had to think about it again. She never would.

* * * *

She was sleeping. 

She lied to herself like she always did, thought of everything she didn’t want to like she always did. It chased her both in sleep and wake, reminders and threats pushing and pulling simultaneously until she was two people, two places, two times. The one constant was that she was running, always running. She just needed a break, a moment to rest.

* * * *

She was found.

Somehow she wasn’t surprised they dragged her right back. Somehow she wasn’t surprised Maul was more than eager to have her back. Somehow she wasn’t surprised they gave her Hancock’s hat as a reminder that she was every bit as fucking hopeless as she thought she was. 

Somehow she wasn’t surprised that she was burning, looking into Cait’s eyes even though Cait would never burn her like that.

Cait would never drool over her own ecstasy, slobbering like an animal as she told Jak to bite her, scratch her, hurt her. Cait would never get off on Jak’s own struggle, find pleasure in taking away the only sliver of resistance she could muster in that moment. Cait would never play like a god, offering minutes of salvation for an hour of suffering. 

Maybe that’s why she wanted to look so deeply into those eyes. Drown reality in green waters of impossibility until it didn’t burn anymore. 

At least, she tried.


	34. Chapter 34

All Hancock could think was “God, I hope Cait isn’t fucking dead.”

When that weird kid, Styx or something, got back from talking to the Enigma, they came straight to him, explaining how it would be three full days, counting today, before their people would have an answer. There was a lot Hancock couldn’t understand, partly because of Styx’s hasty scribbles and partly because of phrases like “Silent Talks.” The fuck does that even mean? All Hancock knew was he had to wait three days to help Jak...and that wasn’t even a given. Say these Enigma decided not to help after all. What then? 

“I’ll try my goddamn best,” he had told himself. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

But shortly after those words, Styx was back in his lounge, shoving more writing into his face. Only this time, Hancock understood exactly what it said. 

“Cait not waking up.”

Sure enough, as the young Enigma let him in to Cait and Jak’s room at the Rexford, Hancock saw the redhead’s still body curled up in the blankets. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hancock muttered as he rushed to her side. He got on his knees beside the bed, setting his hat down on the table. “Cait, c’mon,” he said as he jostled her shoulder. 

Nothing. 

“Cait!” he said, trying not to yell but feeling the desperation creeping into his voice. He couldn’t lose Cait, too. Jak would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself. Two of his only fucking friends, gone….

Still nothing. “Okay, okay, uh...shit. Think, dammit!” With a strained grunt, he rolled Cait’s muscular form over on her back. He lowered his head to her chest, but couldn’t hear her heart beating through her corset. It didn’t feel right to investigate that one any further until he was certain he absolutely had to. His fingers went to one of her bracers, slipping under it so he could slide it from her wrist and try to check her pulse, but he figured that was kind of invasive too when he saw what lie beneath. Still, he needed to make sure she was okay, so he felt around her bruised wrist for a pulse, but came up empty. Growling, Hancock tried to put his fingers to her neck, but again, felt nothing. He never did understand how the fuck to check someone’s pulse. 

Styx stood petrified by the opposite side of the bed, watching Hancock as he was beginning to panic. 

“No shit!” the ghoul declared abruptly to no one in particular as an idea struck him. He put a trembling hand beneath Cait’s nose. With a relieved sigh, he let himself crumple to the ground. Cait was still breathing! She was still fucking breathing. “She’s alright,” he muttered to himself as much as Styx. Then he noticed they were scribbling on their notepad once more. “What is it now?” he sighed. So far, Styx had nothing but bad news for him. 

Predictably, the next note was no different.

“Apex planning to take Diamond City. Heard New Gods talking.”

  
And just like that, Goodneighbor was on high alert once again.

Never in Hancock’s time as mayor had the town been under such constant pressure as the past month or so. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t ever pressure; there was, as much as there was anywhere else in the Commonwealth. That was just a perk of living in the Wasteland. But Goodneighbor had never been so threatened before. Diamond City wasn’t an ally, but it was the biggest settlement out here. Place that in the wrong hands and some asshole that doesn’t need a bigger platform just may get it.

That asshole was Apex.

His presence had always lurked like rot in the wind, a sour stench that crept up with the shift of the breeze only to disappear without a clear trace. Everyone knew he was there, but no one knew where he was, and his power plays had been relatively subtle up to this point. Join together these raider gangs, dominate these communities, orphan children to twist into monsters, all of this remained in the background of the Commonwealth, just out of sight. 

Hancock had always known he was bad news, but he didn’t ever hear much of it.

For three days, he was forced to sit on his ass, wait for the Enigma reply or an assault on Diamond City, whichever came first. Cait was still out. Jak was still gone. Reports of these New God fucks were coming in more often, nearby sightings that only spelled trouble for everyone. The least Hancock was able to do was keep the Watch patrolling, but even that felt like bullshit. Sightings and reports did no good if he couldn’t actually react to them. 

“Watching the enemy’s moves is just as important as making our own,” Fahrenheit would tell him. 

“Not now, Fahr,” he’d reply with a warning look. There was no good watching if they were powerless from the start. 

The one, minute positive to any of this was that there was nothing for Hancock to feel guilty for this time around, no room to blame himself. He wanted to, but there was no valid justification to be found. Nothing he could do could stop the threat of Apex, and he really was doing his best to get Jak back. He was checking up on Cait multiple times every day, and knew Styx was taking care of her. He didn’t want to, but he had to sit back and watch, regardless of what was happening.

Which wasn’t much until the third night of his waiting. 

Patrols came back with word of gunfire and screams coming from the direction of Diamond City. Fahrenheit went with a handful of Watch to survey the situation and discovered an army of New Gods laying waste to Diamond City. Molotovs were shattering against houses with a splash of flames, smoke churning in black coils above the City. Guards were being gunned down left and right, their crude pipe weapons far inferior compared to the New Gods’ advanced automatic weaponry. Unarmed civilians were actually, noticeably, being spared, according to Fahrenheit, but they weren’t allowed to leave, either. A wall of raiders barred the entrance to the City, shoving those who dared attempt to break through to the ground. 

“They were neutralizing all threats, but for whatever reason were very deliberate about leaving those without weapons relatively unharmed,” the bodyguard told Hancock, back in the lantern-lit lounge.

“Fuck, there’s that at least...still, it ain’t like they were just feelin’ nice. Wonder what the hell they’re up to….”

Fahrenheit made a noise indicating she shared the sentiment, the lantern’s glow dancing on her face.

Hancock’s dark eyes glinted with the light, as he stared at his bodyguard, pondering the situation with knitted brows.

  
She shook her head slightly. “There’s nothing we can do right now. I’m lucky my group wasn’t spotted amidst all of that, but I guess that’s exactly why we weren’t. Otherwise, not all of us would have made it back tonight. We simply don’t have the numbers, and I can’t see these Enigma helping us confront them. Wasn’t part of the deal, I imagine. We’re just gonna have to stick this one out, Hancock. Keep all eyes and ears open.”

“Just don’t like ‘em bein’ so close to our own backyard,” Hancock muttered. “Shit could blow back on us at any moment.”

Fahrenheit clasped an arm to the mayor’s shoulder. “Until then, we direct our resources to ourselves.”

“And rescuing Jak.”

For a moment, the two shared an unsteady look. Then, Fahrenheit nodded. “Of course.”

Hancock echoed the movement, ghoulish features rigid. He knew the bodyguard still held contemptuous feelings towards Jak, but this was his call, not hers.

She seemed to take that hint, and ducked out of the room respectfully. 


	35. Chapter 35

  
“Little bird?”

The curious creature in the cage was still, silent.

“Little bird, wake up!”

Jak fell to her knees in front of the cage in the midst of the rubble, pleading with the red bird to wake up. She needed to see those eyes. She needed to see.

“Little bird,” she cried as she picked up the cage, holding it close to her chest as she rocked back and forth on the debris-strewn asphalt. A realization hit her. Perhaps the bird was only pretending to be asleep! Perhaps it just didn’t like that name. Jak would pretend to sleep if someone used a name for her that she didn’t like. The little bird didn’t like being called “little bird.”  
Jak gathered her breath, shallow and shaking in her chest as if it too were trapped within a cage. She held the bird cage closer than ever until the wire dug into her belly.

“Cait,” she hardly whispered. 

She still couldn’t see those eyes. So green. She needed to see.

“Cait, please.”

She couldn’t see.

“Don’t leave me here alone,” she choked, gasping for air. “Don’t leave me here alone. Don’t leave me...don’t leave me….”

Then, two things happened at once. 

A yao guai pounced into Jak’s huddled form, sinking its claws and maw deep into her flesh. She didn’t feel pain, only burning. Deep and dark and everything bleeding from her shell, it burned, but no pain.   
Simultaneously, the bird in the cage woke up with a startled, shrieking noise that dug into Jak’s ears like sharp-nailed fingers. 

“Don’t leave me,” she sobbed. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leavin’, Jak.”

The boxcar was back. Stifling dark. Cold flesh. Shudders and shakes. Burning. It was all back.

“You’re not real,” Jak told Hancock, who was standing silhoutted against a moonlit sky. She thought she saw a shooting star fly past, but it was probably a hallucination, just like him. “You’re not real,” she repeated.

“Of course I am, Jak. Why...wouldn’t I be?”

“They gave me your hat,” she said, eyes transfixed on the hat atop the ghoul’s head.

Hancock brushed past her to pick up the other tricorn hat on the floor, but as he did, Jak revolted at the gentle contact.

“Get away from me!” she screamed, shoving and clawing at him. “Get away from me!”

“Whoa, whoa, doll, I’m not--”

“You’re not real! You’re not real so just leave me alone! I don’t need you too!”

The girl broke down, her body wracked with sobs as she wailed, legs folded beneath her, bent over with her hands over her head, pulling thick and tight handfuls of her hair.

“Oh, man...doll...they really messed you up,” he said. He knelt close to her, as safely as he could for both their sakes. “Look, this hat, it’s...not mine, Jak. The color is wrong. The stitching is off, and there’s a hole in it right here. You know my hat could never have holes in it, that would be--”

Jak only fell deeper into her own despair, repeating the words “Don’t need you too.”

A great shadow fell over the girl’s body as his foul, ugly, vile, nasty, awful words raped her ears with his foul, ugly, vile, nasty, awful voice. 

Hancock turned around just in time to see Maul clench a fist around the ghoul’s neck and throw him out of the boxcar. 

“Have you ever tried ghoul flesh before?” the scarred brute jeered as he hopped out of the boxcar. “It is a little blunt on the jaw, but well worth it in the end.”

“Piece of shit,” Hancock spat as he pushed himself off the ground, tackling Maul so his body folded against the floor of the boxcar. “What did you fucking do to her?!”

The two grappled for a moment before Maul stole the upper hand, pinning Hancock against the floor. 

“How foolish be you to think you can free this beast from her cage? That is my right and my right alone.”

Hancock was scrabbling for his shotgun beside him. Maul moved an arm to block the attempt, giving Hancock the opportunity to slam an elbow into his face. Maul’s recoil was just enough for Hancock to writhe away, grab the gun, and wildly aim a shot at the other man. 

The man flew back, but before Hancock had time to react, Jak lunged past him.

For a brief moment Jak wondered, staring at Maul’s squirming body beneath her, if this is how she looked to him. Face screwed up in pain, anguish, and every other imaginable creation the darkest parts of the human mind could conjure.

One thing she noticed she lacked, and knew he did too, was pity.  
  
With a savage scream, Jak plunged her hand into the bullet wound on the side of Maul’s abdomen. She twisted her hand. She gouged with her fingers. She felt the burn of his blood and flesh. She hoped he did too. She wanted him burned. She wanted him violated. She twisted. She gouged. All she could see was her wrist, soaked in sticky red that burned. Burned like hellfire and hatred and the only thing left. This was the only thing left. Whether she lived, died, didn’t matter. He was the only thing left and he would be gone too. He would be gone and it didn’t matter if she was too. It didn’t matter. 

He was burning.

And as the life faded from his dead-grass eyes and his agonized bitching and his futile swats at her arm, she felt good. Better than ever before. 

When his body stilled, Jak wrenched her arm from his insides, and though she knew he was dead, her knuckles were split in jagged slits that bled and burned, and bled and burned some more, by the time she was through with him. Even after Hancock dragged her off of him, pulled her out of the boxcar and slammed the door to leave that sack of shit to fester and rot and become a feast for all manner of terrifying creatures clever enough to find their way inside, she bled and burned.

But so did he.

  



	36. Chapter 36

Cait was dragged back to consciousness with a stabbing pain to the side of her neck and a dose of rage burning in her veins.

She sat up with a disoriented growl, hearing something clatter and thud to the floor. Her eyes cried out in agonized protest as tears and colored spots clouded her vision, her pupils dilating angrily against the sudden attack of light. Cait was only dimly aware of where she was, but she was too fucking _ angry _to care. All she knew was she felt angry, alone, and abandoned. It didn't really matter where she was, because Jak had left her. Jak had fucking left her! Jak had left her and now she was alone again, just like before, just like she knew she would be. She saw this coming. She saw this shite coming, saw Jak getting tired of her and leaving her for dead, just like everyone else. She was probably out there killing more sorry bastards that definitely deserved it, there was no arguing that, but did they deserve Jak? Cait laughed cynically to herself. No one deserves what Jak does to people. No one deserves to be beaten and bloodied and broken. As much as Cait wanted to, she would never wish that upon her most hated enemy. It was senseless. It was fucking wrong. She wasn't proud of what she did! Fuck, she wasn't proud. But Jak was. Jak was proud, wasn't she? Jak was proud and that's why she abandoned Cait. That's why Cait was all alone, stuck in her worst fucking hour to be taken care of by….

Cait felt sick.

She felt sick and it wasn't just because the true weight of her words sank to the bottom of her stomach like a corpse in a grave, and it wasn't just because she realized why those words were buzzing through her head or why she was awake to even begin with. It wasn’t just because she noticed what was on the floor right now, that the clatter was an empty syringe of Psycho and the thud was Styx on their back, propped up by their arms with fear in their eyes and the contents of Cait’s bag strewn all around them.

Cait lunged out of bed on her hands and knees to try and reach the trash bin that lie across the room, but she couldn’t make it. With the horrible sensation of her insides thrusting up within her, Cait vomited on the floor, trying to shove stray belongings of hers out of the way as she did so. 

“Dammit,” she panted as she swallowed back the burning taste in her throat, thick saliva dripping from her mouth before she violently wiped it away with her arm. She stared at the puddle of nasty shite in front of her, her nails scraping against the wood of the floor as her firmly-planted hands curled into fists. This wasn’t supposed to be how this went. This wasn’t supposed to be...fuck. Fuck! “Fuck!” she yelled out loud, so aggressively she heard something start behind her. She turned her head slowly, murderous green eyes streaming as she fixed her gaze on a trembling Styx. “Get. Out,” she muttered beneath her breath. When Styx’s exit was too sluggish for Cait’s patience, she snapped. “Get! Out! Get out! Go! I don’t fucking need you, you fucking ruined this!” 

Styx practically ran the rest of the way to the door, stumbling against it as they tore it open and threw it shut behind them. 

“You fucking ruined this, you fucking...fucking….” Cait slowly slid against the closed door, holding fistfuls of her hair as she let out a shuddering sob before slamming her head backwards. She wasn’t so sure she was talking to Styx anymore. 

She sat like that for a while, staring up at the ceiling as the fury of her high faded into something thick and cloudy and meaningless. Her head dropped heavily, like that of a doll’s or a puppet’s, as she scanned the room around her. Styx must have tossed all her shite around looking for that thing of Psycho. Her knuckle blades, the locket with her parents’ faces that she hadn’t actually lost before, a box or two of ammo, a knife, it was all there. But with a churn of her stomach that almost sent her back to her hands and knees, she saw some things she hadn’t seen in awhile. 

With a strained groan, Cait crawled over to the paper she noticed, hoping it wasn’t what she thought it was. But as she lifted the thing with a shaking hand, spotted with vomit and still torn in all its usual places, there was no denying that this was the drawing she was given ages ago by someone who still held a special place in her heart that nothing and no one could ever take from her. A few feet away were the very same pencils used, complete with their signature bite marks around the ends and the paint that had chipped with time. A few had snapped and splintered through the years, but they were all still there. 

Cait gathered all of this up with gentle hands, ignoring the fetid reek that assailed her nostrils. She took it all back to the bed, holding it close to her chest while being careful not to ruin anything any further. She couldn’t believe she fucked up the last memory, the last reminder, the last little piece of the one that used to love her. 

Her tears spilled down the side of her face, caressing every curve of it as she drifted off to sleep, thinking of what she had lost all those years ago.

* * * *

Bruises in the shape of fingers blossomed like bittersweet roses on Cait’s thin, freckled arm. She rubbed them absentmindedly, placing her own fingers over them. A cloud of dust blowing past tickled her nose, giving her the signal that a sneeze was incoming. She reared her head up as she felt it coming, her neck pressing uncomfortably on the collar around her neck. Her eyes fell shut against the blazing sun that threatened to reach through the corroding bars of her cage, pry her eyelids back open, and scorch through her retinas until she was blind. It was a creative way to think about it, at least. Shani would be proud. 

Cait’s sneeze let loose, and when she next opened her eyes she was looking right at the aforementioned person. 

“H-hey,” Shani gasped with a half-hearted smile, giving Cait a quick, jerky wave. 

“Hey, Bats.”

Shani gave a nervous giggle, brushing a sweeping bang of their hair out of their face. It had always reminded Cait of the color of autumn, the red of a sunlit tree preparing to lose its leaves. “You’re, uh, n-never gonna let that one go, are you?”

Cait smirked, gesturing with her hand. “C’mon, you were sleepin’ upside down, off this very bench. How could I?”

“I, um, guess that’s fair,” Shani said as they shuffled to sit beside Cait. They leaned closer to Cait’s face, their pale skin tinged with soft shades of pink in the brisk air. Cait always despaired at this, slightly, because the cold blush would cover much of the freckles that adorned their face, save for the patch on their chin. And fuck, they were all so adorable. “Birdy,” they said, the corner of their mouth lifting mischievously. 

“Oh, now ya’ve done it,” Cait declared in mock offense. “Just ‘cause I got shat on by a bird once, you’re gonna tease me about it for the rest of me days.”

“Doesn’t feel very nice, does it?”

Cait leaned even closer to Shani. “Actually, it feels _ wonderful _.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, Cait finding herself swimming in the beauteous contrast that was Shani’s eyes, blue like a cool winter stream.

“Hey, wait a sec. Where are your glasses?”

Shani broke the eye contact, ignoring the question, the slight smile on their face fading. “Why uh...a-are you still talking to me?” 

The smile wiped from Cait’s face, now. She saw this coming sooner or later. “Shani, I’ve told you. You’re everything to me. You’re all I got in this hellhole.”

“T-that’s bec-c-cause there _ is _no else. There’s no one else for you t-to have.”

Cait noticed their leg bouncing frantically against her own. Gently, Cait set her hand just over their thigh. “Hey. Listen to me. This?” she said, pointing to the bruises on her arm. “Not your fault. Please, love, try and forgive yourself. Try and--”

“Cait...h-how can I?” Shani murmured. “How can I-I-I just fucking f-forgive myself for hurt…” their voice faltered, their body heaving as if the rest of that sentence was threatening to explode from their lips. “For hur...for hu-hurt...f-for--”

“Shhhh, shhh, Shani,” Cait hushed, running her hand through their hair, pushing it out of their face. “Shani, look at me. Look at me, please.” 

Hesitantly, Shani obliged.

Cait cupped a hand to their cheek, the other still sitting on their anxious leg. “I _ love _ you. Nothin’ changes that. Absolutely _ nothin _’. I’m okay, I promise.”

“You’re j-just saying that so I-I feel better.”

“I’m sayin’ that ‘cause it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Doesn’t mean i-it’s not b-b-bullshit.”

Now Cait was crouched down on the dirt in front of Shani, hands softly feeling for their fidgeting ones. “Well I think it’s bullshite that you’re blamin’ yourself,” she retorted, though her words were gentle and full of concern and care. “See how this works? We each pick through the other’s words to find what we think is bullshite. But in the end, does it really matter?” Cait shook her head. “Not as long as we have each other. And I’m never letting go, dear. No matter what.”

Shani just barely met Cait’s eyes, nodding their head and squeezing Cait’s hands. 

Cait moved back to her seat, straddling the makeshift bench so she was facing Shani. They mirrored the movement, then wrapped Cait up in a hug, the warmest, most loving embrace she had ever felt, just like always. Cait knew they needed the hug just as much, if not more, but she also knew Shani wouldn’t admit that. 

“I’m so s-sorry, honey,” they sobbed as they clung to Cait. “I’m so, so sorry, s-so so….”

“I know,” Cait whispered, eyes closed as she nuzzled her chin over Shani’s shoulder,

stroking her hand through their hair. “I know...I know.”

“You know I-I love you, right? I-I-I just get so...scared and l-lost and everything goes wrong and I can’t control it, I can’t control it, I can’t.…”

“Hey, hey,” Cait withdrew from the hug just far enough to hold their face. “Of course I know you love me, Shani,” she said as she ran her thumb down their face, over the little scar on their chin. “Of course.”

Shani sniffed, taking a deep albeit shaky breath. “Good….”

“Hey, seriously darlin’, where did your glasses go?”

“Oh! Haha, yeah, um, I kinda...traded them.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, uh, you know Thinny? He’s the one th-that steals from these assholes when they’re not looking.”

“The hell did ya trade them for? Now you’re blind as a…” Cait gasped. “You’re blind as a bat!”

“Hey! I can still see, asshole.”

“Prove it,” Cait teased. 

Shani started to say something, but it dissolved into a shy smile as they reached behind them. From their pants pockets, they pulled out a folded piece of paper and a handful of noticeably chewed pencils.

“See? You’ve been tryin’ to eat your pencils, thinkin’ they’re food. You’re blind!”

“Fuck you,” Shani said, though the sweetness of their voice always poked holes in their attempts to be defiant. “This is for you,” and they offered the paper to Cait.

Curiously, Cait unfolded it, being delicate so as to not ruin the frail material. Shani watched hopefully but anxiously at the same time. That anxiety clearly peaked when Cait sucked in her breath after beholding the unfolded paper. Shani was biting their nails, waiting for Cait to respond.

Cait didn’t know how to respond, though...too blown away by how fucking awesome this was! “Shani! You drew me as one of your warrior elf girls, riding a fuckin’ dragon! What...I can’t believe...this is so cool!”

“You really mean that?” Shani asked, but it was evident they already knew the answer as they were beaming.

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely,” Cait breathed, taking in the drawing. It depicted a more fantastical version of herself, with pointed ears and wicked plates of armor that accentuated her body in all the right places. Her face was etched in a graphite warcry, hoisting a masterful sword above her head as she charged forward on her fearsome dragon steed with great horns that curled beyond its head and wings that took up most of the paper. A great burst of flames extended forward, almost appearing as if they could actually break through the surface of the paper at any moment. It was a beautiful work of art, intricately detailed and expertly shaded. This drawing put most of the pre-war shite to shame! No comic book or boring kitten picture, because those do, in fact, exist, could compare. This was the shite Cait wanted to see more of. Girls, dragons, what more could she ask for? 

But this wasn’t just any drawing of girls and dragons. It was a drawing of her, on her own dragon, created entirely by the love of her life!

“Shani...fuck.” Cait looked at them with teary eyes. “Thank you so much, darlin’! You didn’t have to...you know, rob yourself of sight just to give me a present.”

“Come on, I think we can b-both agree that my eyesight is absolutely fine.”

“Mmm, fair point,” Cait giggled. She opened her arms and leaned forward, making happy noises when her love accepted the hug. 

“I love you so damn much,” she breathed. 

“I love you just as much,” Shani sighed, burying their head into Cait’s chest with a sleepy sigh.

* * * *

Cait’s reminiscence ended with a knock on the door. She lingered for a moment in bed, clinging to the few wispy traces of her memories of Shani for as long as she could. Another knock sounded, though, prompting Cait to lazily slip off the bed. She stumbled to where her bag laid on the floor and gently set the pencils and the drawing in the small compartment she kept them in. She zipped the compartment before another knock sounded.

“Jesus, I’m comin,” she snapped, staggering over vomit and possessions to reach the door. She leaned against the wall with one hand while the other yanked the door open.

There stood Hancock with a really, really strange look on his face.

“Can I help you?”

The mayor opened his mouth, closed it, then swallowed. “We got Jak.”

Before the words could register, Hancock stepped sideways to reveal Jak behind him.

Beaten and bloodied and broken.

  
  
  



End file.
